Just a quick reminder that if you see a blog comment signed with my name, it's not me.
(Keeping this at the top of the page...)
A few months ago PBS did a documentary on song-poems that I didn't know about because it was on PBS, but the song-poem karaoke thing on their site is kind of cool. It only plays the one song, and you have to sing along to your own lyrics, of course, but your neighbors are dicks anyway. Click the image to see the lyrics to my lovely song that I just typed, and then go to the karaoke thing and sing along to it. (WARNING: NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN OR ANYONE WITH DIGNITY)
Missy wants me to write about: "The topic of your choice, so long as it somehow mentions me but does not make fun of me."
My topic is Missy. I started reading her blog a while back, and she's really cool. She has interesting tattoos, and credible sources say she won't turn down a beer or two. I think she really likes her new boyfriend. She does modern dance or whatever you call it, so she's in great shape. I think her boyfriend really likes that she's in great shape. She looks like a younger Frances McDormand, and she likes it when you tell her that (or at least she said she did when I did). She's got kind of higher-brow tastes than mine. Then again, who doesn't? She likes Buffy a lot, Angel not so much. She told me this "Treach-Whore" thing is a great idea, so now the joke's on her. In conclusion: Missy Is Awesome!
Anonymous wants me to write about: "The T.A.T.U. performance at MTV's recent movie awards."
I fast-forwarded through it because I'm sick of that song and all the "But are they really?" hype, but that sure was a stageful of dykes, huh? Or I guess some of them must have been just pretending they liked to get it on with other chicks so they could be on TV. Kind of like Girls Gone Wild, or your mom. Ha ha, just kidding. Anyway, how about the crack of Pink's ass? That thing should have its own channel. Forget Spike TV, let's have Pink's Delectable Ass-Crack TV. Also, that Stifler guy sure likes to talk real loud. So in summary, T.A.T.U. stands for Two Adorable Twatlicking Ukrainians.
I can't write music, but I can write words. To try to get more than five people to hit the subscription button, how about this: Sign up for $1 a month, and I will write 100 words on the topic of your choice.* 100 words might not sound like much, but neither does 100 pennies. Let's make the topic itself part of the 100 words, just to keep you from going nuts with the specifics and such. I can't guarantee it'll be funny or interesting or anything else, but the total number of words will be no less than 100. (Everything up through the previous sentence, not counting the header, was 100 words. Just to give you an idea.) If I'm feeling generous or you're the only one to subscribe that day or week or ever, maybe I'll write more. I promise not to just write "turdies" 100 times or anything like that. And it will be yours all yours, with its own URL that you can show to all your friends and go, "Ha ha, Treacher is desperately stupid and poor." I'll even throw in a header and a link to whatever you want me to link to, free of charge. I should probably think of name for this, like with Gawker and "Gawker Stalker." I don't know... "Treach-Whore," maybe?
This is almost certain to be a total disaster and earn me even more enemies, but why not. Maybe it'll actually be fun before somebody decides to ruin it.
*First come first served, don't try to rush me, no refunds, give me a name you want me to credit it to, donating more than $1 is an awesome idea but YOU STILL NEED TO CLICK THE SUBSCRIPTION BUTTON TO GET THE 100 WORDS, you can suggest a format or genre but I am under absolutely no obligation to comply, if you don't like your entry I reserve the right to post your whiny e-mail so everybody can laugh at what a cheap jerk you are, more rules probably to come as people think of unforeseen ways to be unpleasant, etc.
Doktor Frank writes about a site called The American Song-Poem Music Archives. Now I finally know what to buy with this Amazon gift certificate I got for my birthday. The site has MP3s of a bunch of "Send Us Your Lyrics (and Money)!" song-poems, and there are others floating around if you know how to type stuff into Google. "Blind Man's Penis (Peace & Love)," which Frank writes about, must be heard to be believed.
The one I can't get out of my head is "Ecstasy to Frenzy", which sounds like what would happen if Anthony Newley joined the Beach Boys and did more drugs than all of them put together. It was done by a guy named Rodd Keith. He died in obscurity in 1974, but apparently he's become known as "The King of Song-Poems." If that MP3 and the others I've heard are any indication, his stuff was definitely better than you'd expect from some tired hacks cranking out one-take ditties for a bunch of weirdo lyrics that came in the mail. He'd just read a poem and make up the music on the spot, but you wouldn't know by listening to it. And he might do up to 20-30 song-poems in a day, in all sorts of different styles. After reading about his remarkable (and remarkably sad) life, it occurred to me that the guys who wrote Ed Wood and The People vs. Larry Flynt should do a movie about this guy.
Update: Lileks did a review of that anthology CD. There's just too much good stuff out there to keep up with it all. I keep having to remind myself of the good stuff...
Just when I start to think everything is turning to shit, I'm reminded that... well, that everything is turning to shit. But at least it's good for a laugh:
a_m_b_e_r_4_e_v_e_r: I hate science!
a_m_b_e_r_4_e_v_e_r: Science has made me married to a decaying shibboleth of mismatched parts.
a_m_b_e_r_4_e_v_e_r: I hate my dad and I hate science!
kylecgiii: you hate your dad?
kylecgiii: that's bad
kylecgiii: and you never mention about your mom
a_m_b_e_r_4_e_v_e_r: You don't want to kiss me.
ash_143: yes i doooooooooooo
a_m_b_e_r_4_e_v_e_r: Even if your lips would be entrapped like a grasshopper in a spiderweb by my riot of tissue mass?
I'm thinking about changing the name of the Treach of the Month Club to the Binary Plan. You know, a $1 for a zero. No?
Update: Okay, it's back up, for the next few seconds at least. (If I'm not just compounding the problem! Although if Instalink = Niagra Falls, then Treachlink = drop of mosquito pee.) No permalinks, but her post titled "Rational Thought Needs A Better Marketing Campaign" is a good'n.
Anybody know what's going on with Lileks today? I hope it's nothing like this Moxie vs. Moxie crap. Although in his first paragraph, that's what I thought he was talking about:
My God, people can be vile. I hate to realize sometimes how naive I can be, how I can still be surprised at someone’s ability to put the screws to their fellow man - er, person - for reasons so petty you couldn’t find them with an electron microscope. One silly minor person sets her jaw, decides to show someone what’s what, and the effect cascades through the lives of half a dozen other people.
But it's something else, sounds like. Very ominous. Hope everything's okay at Jasperwood.
And Layne's taking his annual summer blogging break, or slowdown, or whatever. That's sounding more and more like a good idea every minute. He's also working on another book, which is good news for anybody who's read Dot.Con.
Update: Lileks says...
Thanks for asking. Most everything is fine, and what isn't will be soon. And this has nothing to do with my job vs. my website, as some are speculating. Nor is this Moxiesque in any way.
More tomorrow, I hope.
Update-and-a-half: Turns out his wife got fired. He doesn't go into the reasons, beyond the above quote, but it sounds pretty bad. Too much of that going around. And it was the day before they were going to close on their mortgage, too. Well, whatever positive energy I have left, it's going out to them. Let's hope she lands on her feet. Hell, I'll bet she has a bunch of job offers by this time tomorrow. The Bleat rings near and far.
(Answering Jeff's challenge.)
Okay, the Treach-infected Acid Keg strip is up! I guarantee nothing, but at least in this case it's just extinct animals, not people, tearing each other apart for no good reason. And the drawlings are purty. Steve's a real good drawler. [Update: And the reviews are in!]
Speaking of possible ha-ha's, never let it be said that I can't take a joke at my own expense. Mainly I'm just flattered that somebody took the time to do a parody of this blog. The saddest part is, it's not that far from the truth. (And this parody of a parody actually works better in some ways than the parody it's parodying!) I wouldn't have used GeoCities, but...
Veronica (Moxie Pop) saw my post about her site disappearing, and she told me why she took it down. A week ago today, the president of her company got a fax from a blocked number, claiming to be from a potential client who would never do business with a company that employed someone like her. She wasn't allowed to see the fax, and that's all the HR person would tell her when she was made aware of it last Thursday. She was fired that same day, without even a chance to clean out her desk. She's still in shock, but she's trying to find out the details of the fax, whether there's any way to find out who sent it, and what she can do about it.
She can't prove it yet, but she strongly suspects this is fallout from the absolutely ridiculous Moxie vs. Moxie feud. It's not a big leap of logic: On June 8, somebody makes an unfounded accusation of identity theft against Veronica. The resulting flamewar rages all over the place for a week and a half. On June 16, someone posting as "np" threatens her in at least one blog comment she knows about (now deleted by the administrator, unfortunately), and the same day her company receives an anonymous fax. On June 19, she's fired because of that fax. So coincidence seems unlikely. She also thinks "np" is one of the people who's been going around impersonating people in the comments of various blogs. (There's also a comment-impostor called "Potatohead," apparently, but I'm not sure if it's the same person.) In addition, "np" or whoever it is has been posting as much personal information as he or she can dig up about Veronica and other people. [Update: Posting it as those people, in some cases. Think how you'd feel if you saw a post signed with your name that you didn't write, containing private information that you might not want people to know.] So Veronica's trying to find out who's doing this and get a restraining order so it doesn't happen again. If you have any information or advice (informed advice), she can be reached at email@example.com.
So far I've kept mostly quiet about this whole fiasco, other than a few vague references and some jokes to try to put it in perspective. Out of a misguided sense of friendship, maybe. I was content to just block Madison and Dawn's angry, irrational e-mail and move on, but I can't stay neutral after this. No matter how much you hate somebody or which side of this you think deserves to have more of their hair pulled out, none of this crap is worth going after people's jobs.
Whether or not Madison and Dawn are directly responsible for getting Veronica fired -- and we should give them the benefit of the doubt that they didn't send the fax and aren't sure who did -- none of this would be happening if they hadn't made the public accusation that started this stupid fight, stoked the flames in every blog comment section they could fit into their day, created a perfect breeding ground for trolls who impersonated people on both sides and stirred things up even more, and repeatedly tried to drag me and who-knows-else into it when things didn't go the way they wanted. Playing martyr the whole time, hurling insults and threats and wild accusations if you dared to tell them they were wrong. (I was informed that I was somehow "turning my back on my friends," among other accusations. Well, too bad. I'm not saying we all have to sit around holding hands and humming along to the latest Dave Matthews tune, but I reserve the right to pick my battles. I don't leap to the defense of bullies, no matter how much they play the victim and try to take advantage of my past friendliness and tolerance.) Well, they succeeded in whipping up a big ugly controversy, and now somebody's out of a job because of it.
I know you're reading this, Madison and Dawn and whoever else, and you're not liking it. But the following is pretty good advice, so please pay attention:
You can keep scrambling to make new "friends" to replace the ones you've alienated, so you'll have somebody to back you up. You can cry about how you're only human, and you make mistakes just like everybody else, and sometimes you just act before you think, and it's not your fault because the bad people were mean to you, and blah blah blah. (Don't worry, somebody in your comments will tell you you're right!) You can try to discredit me, tell people I'm crazy and ungrateful and a liar and whatever else. You can throw a fit and whip up yet another flamewar, and then delete the whole thing after you calm down. Go ahead. If all that helps you feel better about yourselves and relieves some of your self-imposed stress, fine.
But if you've got a damn bit of sense, and I'll be charitable enough to assume you do, you'll quit lashing out at anybody who doesn't jump when you snap your fingers, and you'll do whatever you can to help find out who got Veronica fired. This isn't just a self-dramatizing little slapfight anymore. Your actions are having very real consequences, and you need to stop dodging the blame. This all started, you said, because you were worried about Madison's reputation. Well, this is your chance to salvage whatever's left of it.
And as for you Right-Thinking guys, and whoever else was wallowing in this on both sides? Please take your teeth out of each other's throats for 5 minutes and help figure out how this happened. I know the consensus is that these vicious flamewars are just a fun pastime, but we're way past that stage.
Now stop flipping me off, and start cleaning up your mess.
Update: Lee at Right-Thinking has some more information. The opinions of commenters at Right-Thinking do not necessarily represent those of this blog, etc., etc. (On second thought, I'll just leave them to their revenge fantasies and so forth. If you want to seek out that thread, you're on your own.)
Update 2 of ???: I didn't point out anything of the sort about the identity of the fax-sender. Right now there's no solid proof who it was. (I even put that part in bold so you wouldn't miss it.) That's kind of the point of telling people about it, to see if anybody has any evidence. I can't stop anybody from drawing conclusions beyond what I've said here, if you just can't help yourself, but please don't put the words in my mouth.
Update 3: Here's somebody else who was fired because of an anonymous fax, if you're skeptical about such things happening.
Update 4: Steven Chapman looks back at other blog-related firings and offers some good advice.
Update 5: In Dawn's defense, it's true: at least she's never thrown a baby out a window.
Update 6: More good advice for all involved, myself included.
Update 7: ...or, you could deal with it by interviewing one of your cats...
The other day, Smokin' Steve Hogan asked me to write some dialogue for his latest Acid Keg strip. It was already drawn, and he wanted some stuff to put in the little word balloons. I was having trouble coming up with anything, but then I went to a Saturday matinee (thanks, anonymous donor!) and it gave me an idea:
Check out Acid Keg tomorrow to see the consequences of such an irresponsible statement!
(And even more dimples!)
It's been pointed out to me that MoxiePop's site is gone. Anybody know what happened? Did Madison and Dawn finally win that absolutely necessary and not-at-all-pointless Moxie vs. Moxie battle? Boy, I sure hope so. Cue the confetti!
Well, let's not lose any momentum. Which coattail-surfing identity thief should be next?
She's Got MOXIE Baby
I'd say this last one is the most imminent threat, based on her picture.
*I guess that makes me Dopey. Go figure!
Acid Keg is here. That quail is totally like, "Whaaaaaa?!?"
TNT knows drama, he knows lasagna, it's all part of the plan. I still think they should have gone with the original title, Pie Another Day.
Congratulations to Gawker, Entertainment Weekly's "IT Blog"! There are 99 other "IT" categories, but that's the only one I'll remember by this time next week.
I'm all out of them for now, but check out Channel 101. It's a collection of little DV short films by the guys who did the should-be-classic Heat Vision & Jack (which Parrott was just talking about), along with a bunch of other people. My favorite is Dan Harmon's Batman, followed closely by Action Warriors and Rob Schrab's music video for the Ween classic "Roses Are Free". Most of the other ones are good too. Or at least violent and homophobic/philiac. If you're in LA, they're doing a screening of all the films in a couple weeks. In fact, I'd imagine they're doing that whether you're in LA or not.
Be warned that most of this stuff is not work-safe, so first make sure that your job sucks and you don't care if you get in trouble.
Not that it's any less fresh and clever after the first 75 times you use it in a morning ("Your head is up your ass, get it?"), but it's due for a vacation. Give one of these a try the next time you want to make it clear that you disapprove of someone intensely, but you don't want to keep repeating yourself:
*Or maybe bowel-towel? No, wait, bowelhead. Bowelhead?
Update: Pete from Virginia adds the following:
And Brett D. points out the "how did I miss that?" alternative:
Hi. I never said Marduk is the one impersonating me. I have no idea who is, but there's no reason to think it's him. The whole thing with the prank ad he bought has been resolved, as far as I'm concerned, and he seems like a decent enough guy.
Update: Fixed. That was quick. Maybe I'm just oversensitive to unfounded accusations after the whole Moxie thing, but it's probably a good rule of thumb to avoid them.
Somebody was asking if that goofy motherFactor should get his own term that most people will tire of very quickly, like "fisked" or "dowdified," so there's my nomination. "O'Reilled-up." Yeah, I know.
I just hope Mr. No-Sense Zone's temper tantrum drives more bloggers over to Olbermann's show on MSNBC. It's the only TV news I watch anymore. And it's definitely the only news show that makes me laugh out loud. Other than TDS, if that counts.
The basic idea behind it is to simplify things. As if it's not sufficient to write something, find some relevant and/or "funny" links to put in it, post it, and obsessively tweak it for like an hour, then you have to play hall monitor in your comments. Most commenters are decent enough folks, of course, but you still have to pay attention to their thoughts, opinions, and feelings. And who needs that?
Plus, if another blog links to you, and some turd who knows how to spell your name in the "Name:" field starts insulting people in that blog's comments, you have to deal with that. So I'm turning off comments here, for now at least, and letting everybody know that if somebody using my name posts in your comments, it's not me. (The alternative would be to file a $1.5 million lawsuit, but I have neither the funds nor the childhood abandonment issues.)
Now, I'm not telling anybody else how to run their own show; just telling you how I'm running mine. This isn't a message board, and so far I haven't had nearly enough donations to justify putting any more time into it. If wanting to spend a little less of my day in front of the ol' Grudge Machine is weird, I guess I'm weird.
Okay, enough about that. If anybody else asks me about it, I'll just give them the URL for this post.
Greetings and apologies to everybody who clicked the link to Instapundit in today's Bleat and ended up here instead. I think what Lileks is trying to say is that in a perfect world, I'd have even a fraction of Instapundit's traffic. Not necessarily that I'm a pseudonym of the already insanely prolific Glenn Reynolds.
Or... AM I?!? I've been told Onstad and I are the same guy, since, you know, more than one person being born on a certain day of the year? Yeah, right! So why not. I'll be whoever you want, baby, if the price is right.
Speaking of Onstad, sometimes I think I should just go ahead and change my name to Roast Beef.
P.S. I've always thought Bill O'Reilly was a jackass, if you came here looking for an opinion on that.
It's been a week since I pimped the subscription button, the Treach of the Month Club, so I might as well give people something to whine about. Here goes:
Subscribe for $1 per month, because I'm greedy like that.
Thank you very much, good night!
On the topic of pouring hundreds of millions into creating images that look sort of fake, Jen Chung ponders what would happen if Bruce Banner's pants ended up like the rest of his clothes when he Hulked out. Which reminds me of my review of the first Hulk trailer from over a year ago. You know, the one where Banner's looking into the bathroom mirror and sees a wrinkle or a gray hair or something and busts the whole wall down. Here's the relevant paragraph:
We don't see him as the Hulk, though. Which I guess is partly to build suspense, partly because they're still working on that part of the movie (apparently it's the same actor, with a ton of ILM special effects), and partly because he doesn't even have on those raggedy purple pants he always wears. Just that towel, which you know ain't staying on, and they probably want to keep it PG-13. [They don't want him yelling] "HULK STREAK!! HULK NOT BOUND BY NORMS OF SOCIETY!! HULK FEEL SO FREE!!!!" Knocking over fire hydrants with his big gamma-green wiener. Maybe for the sequel.
If George Lucas had a huge booger hanging down his face, would any of his serfs have the nerve to tell him? That's what we kept asking ourselves yesterday as we watched Attack of the Clones on Dad's Tivo. None of us had seen it yet, after surviving the previous one, and sitting through the whole thing was pretty much an endurance test.
"Fast-forward through this part, Dad, come on."
"What are you, some kinda wuss? Can't take the pain, college boy?"
It was only out of respect for Father's Day that we didn't wrestle the old sadist to the carpet and pry the remote out of his hands.
When they were making this stultifying lightshow, did anybody even hint to Lucas that in no way does it resemble an actual story depicted by actors with human emotions? "That's a really pretty alien, George, but why is any of this happening? Why all the Meeting Of The High Council scenes that only fill the viewer with despair? And how the fuck do you make Samuel L. Jackson boring?" Obviously, Lucas spent a lot more time moving his little digital puppets and spaceships around the screen than dealing with autonomous organisms who might question his judgment. Yeah, okay, there was the Yoda vs. Assisted Living Dracula fight scene, but 45 seconds of "That was cool" doesn't make up for the preceding 17 hours of "Let me borrow that light saber so I can slice my eyes out." Even benching Jar Jar (Lucas obviously studied The Phantom Edit) didn't help.
Edelstein tried to look on the bright side, but I'm with Zacharek even if she didn't appreciate Natalie Portman's midriff-baring outfit. At least Portman's navel gave me something to focus on during the visual chaos of the last half-hour.
A happy note first. Thanks for the well wishes, both verbal and monetary. I'd tell you guys to cut it out already, but that would be false humility.
And a "sad" note....
Comments will be closed until I can figure out if I really want to run a free babysitting service. I know some people think comments are vital, and there's definitely a case to be made for them. I've enjoyed having them since starting this new blog. But after observing the events of the past few days, the way that the truly shameful Moxie vs. Moxie thing spread, I'm starting to think having comments is like having old tires half-full of stagnant water in your yard. After a while they start smelling bad and attracting insects. Now I know how you feel, Dirk! (About dealing with freaks like me in a public forum, that is. I don't know what your yard looks like.)
On a related note, I want to publicly state that I won't be posting to anybody else's comments for the time being. That sounds pretty melodramatic, but it's the only way to be sure I'm not misrepresented. If somebody says something mean to you in your comments and it's signed "Jim Treacher," it's not me. If I've got something mean to say to you, I'll do it here. Or I'll e-mail you, and then you can whine about it on your blog. And to the bored dipshits out there who didn't think things were miserable enough already and tried to start even more fights between people, do your little victory dance. Be sure not to forget the move at the end where you go fuck yourself so hard that it affects the Earth's orbit around the sun. And be glad I'm not Ted Rall. I sure am...
Speaking of harsh language, sorry to Capozzola and Marduk and Reynolds and anybody else I offended the other day. Just sort of snapped from all the blogfeud nonsense and basically the whole stupid week, I guess. The substance of what I said was true, and putting out an ad like that is a creepy, wrong thing to do, but I could have phrased it a lot better. Looks like Marduk has changed the ad and the link, so at least that part of my blog doesn't suck anymore.
Okay, back to trying to enjoy my weekend. Thanks again to the 99.9% of you who are sane and rational.
Okay, I know I'm a little touchy right now, but:
Well, yeah, I'm sticking to it...
Is it so implausible that I wouldn't know who James Capozzola or Marduk are? That I wouldn't get the references to running for Senate and hoagies and whatever else? It's not exactly quoting Caddyshack, now, is it. Why does everybody on the Internet think they're famous? First that Moxie debacle, now this.
I mean, even Instapundit, who's one of the most popular bloggers and the first guy they contact for every newspaper article and TV news story about blogs, isn't as well-known as a guest star in the second 15 minutes of a WB sitcom. Not a slam on Glenn Reynolds; that's just the way it is.
Note to everybody in the sphere o' blogs: You are not famous. Do not assume anybody knows who you are. Do not assume they know or care who you do and do not like.
And I just can't get over the idea that somebody would buy an attack ad on my blog. What the fuck? Why would you do that? People just keep thinking of new ways to ruin it for everybody.
Sorry. I'm just sick of getting pushed into the middle of other people's battles, and it's obviously affecting my sense of humor. Have a good weekend, everybody.
My blogweek just keeps getting better and better. Looks like that "Capozzola for Senate" thing in my ad section is a wacky joke, part of some sort of blogfeud. Because there haven't been enough blogfeuds lately...
Turns out that James Capozzola, a name I didn't recognize when I accepted the ad, runs a blog called The Rittenhouse Review, which I don't read but I recognize the name. Apparently he is not liked by whoever runs another blog I don't read called Marduk's Babylonian Musings. Marduk is the name of a person (I think), and he or she created the ad as some sort of practical joke (I think). I don't know either one of them, so when I got an e-mail saying somebody wanted to buy a blogad, and I checked out the ad and it wasn't dirty or anything, I figured why not: Ad Accepted. Now I'm finding out it's some kind of slam on this Capozzola guy. And Capozzola says it's not even him in the picture, which I also noticed in this post as I was scrolling down just now. (I noticed the picture itself, not that it wasn't Capozzola. I have no idea what Capozzola looks like. And I'm not sure what the hoagie thing is about. Anyway, it's hilarious enough on its own without me trying to explain it, don't you think?)
To Mr. Capozzola, I have to apologize for not realizing that you are famous or something. If you want me to have the ad taken down, let me know and I'll ask the Blogads folks what they can do. To Mr. or Ms. Marduk, congratulations on a funny prank, and thanks for the ad money if I end up getting to keep it. And to anybody else who wants to duke it out in my ads, I'm obviously not very discriminating.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to defend my Bumfights title. This guy with a video camera gave me a bottle of Jack and told me he was my friend!
Update: Maybe it's just this crappy week of getting dragged into a stupid-ass slapfight that had nothing to do with me, and then getting yelled at when I didn't salute properly, but this is bugging me and I'm going to spew about it some more. I guess next time I won't get so excited when somebody buys an ad. It's kind of like giving a little kid a candy bar, and then he opens up the wrapper and it's a dog turd. Except I bit into it before I opened it. Actually, it could be argued that I ate the whole thing in front of everybody and didn't even know anything was wrong. Although that seems pretty unlikely if you've ever tried to eat a dog turd inside a candy wrapper. Which I'm guessing nobody has. What I'm so succinctly trying to say is, no analogy is perfect.
PLEASE STOP SUCKING.
Updated Update: Okay, I figured out what it's like. It's like paying a homeless guy $20 to carry around a sign making fun of your neighbor who you don't like for whatever stupid reason. For a month. What does the bum care, right? Twenty bucks is twenty bucks, he should be happy to get it. Oh, and while I'm bitching about this, was I supposed to know who Capozzola is? Good thing his first name isn't Moxie or I'd really be embarrassed.
Update Update Update: Wait, Marduk is the one with the big yellow ad at Layne's and a bunch of other places, right? Hadn't made the connection. Discretionary income, must be nice.
What's with All the Updates: More about Marduk's ad budget. And then on top of that, he buys more ads linking to somebody he doesn't like to spite them. It's not enough to fight it out on your own blog? You have to take your bullshit to somebody else's? Somebody who in all likelihood doesn't know or care anything about your sad little vendetta? I guess it's not exactly solid marketing technique to piss all over an advertiser, but right now I don't care. The point isn't who's right or wrong in whatever the hell their beef is. The point is, it's not my fight. I shouldn't get dragged into it just because I really needed the twenty bucks. Hell, sixteen bucks after Blogads takes their cut.
One Last Update: And I haven't even started drinking yet. This is your brain on Not Giving A Shit.
One Last Update II: Speaking of me being an idiot, I hadn't even noticed the day and date. Well, I noticed it, but I hadn't thought about it. No wonder I got black cats and stepladders everywhere I go.
One Last Update Vs. Jason: Thanks to Marduk for changing the ad.
"Dave Eggers is dropping his last name for his next novel. It will simply read 'by Dave.' One word celebrities: Madonna, Cher, numerous porn stars and Dave Eggers." -- Gawker
"'To me, if the show has any kind of charm, it's we realize any time you have a debate, no one ever changes their opinion. You might as well just insult somebody at the end of it and move on. It's like real life.'' -- Colin Quinn's sputtered sentence fragments edited together to create a coherent statement about his Comedy Central show Tough Crowd (which I actually really like, but come on, man, you've been doing this for 20 years, finish a thought) in today's Boston Globe (Via Lafftracker)
Oh God. Apologies to Lucy's Website for that previous entry. Puce has been sleeping on my back porch since his host family kicked him out, and somehow he got into the house while I was in the shower. As soon as I post this I'm on the phone to the INS. Sorry. Sorry, everybody.
o lokie heir 'lucy pucey'! Imporst, PUCE ISPUCE famis webstar who dare? STEALOR itimashin as siranis from flaty FITEFITEFITE CLICK
Hey, who stole my Examiner? Tomorrah I'm wakin' up early, and I'm gettin' my camera, and when I see you damn kids creep up on my porch and steal my paper I'm takin' your picture, and then we'll see what your parents think of that, hah? Hah? Rotten little bastards! [Cue 5 full minutes of lung-rending coughing]
Update: Of course, the minute I post that, whatever was making their old page show up has been fixed. Well, you should be going there every day anyway.
And once again, Onstad makes a desperate ploy for major newspaper syndication.
If you're thinking about dragging me into your retarded little slapfight, you should prepare yourself for the possibilty that I'm not going to do exactly what you want, when you want.
It's like this: If a friend gets jumped out of nowhere, I'll try to help. But if a friend picks a fight and then gets mad because it's not turning out the way they think it should, I'm under no obligation to do anything but stand by and watch the learning process take place. If you keep insisting that I step up and say something, don't act surprised if I try to find the lighter side of it and point out how ridiculous the whole thing is. That's kind of what I do.
And if you find any of this displeasing, you're a stupid stinky poopyhead and I don't like you anymore and I'm telling Mom.
Before anybody asks, I'm not even sure who this Capozzola guy is in the blogads. I imagine he's either A) a liberal or B) a conservative, which probably means half of you are ticked off. I also know that Parrott is going to want the number of his tailor. But anyway, this fellow's dough will pay my water bill just the same as anybody else's, so too bad. If you've got a problem with it, equal time will be provided to anybody who buys an ad.
Me, I'm voting for Charles Dody.
P.S. Thank you to everybody who's bought an ad.
P.P.S. By the way, I cancelled Netflix today. Just for you, sweetheart!
Subj: Dear Ray's Place
To: [Cartoon cat that wears a thong and can operate a computer]
It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I don't think my crushing loneliness means I deserve to walk around with a rubber spatula up my rear end for the rest of my life. It's wedged in there pretty good. How do I get through this without a lot of embarrassment and paperwork?
J.T., New Sadness
"I do exercises every day to clear my mind. Third-eye stuff." --Drudge again
For the last 20 years, the town of Lisbon, Maine (pop. 5,000) has held an annual event called the Moxie Festival to celebrate a soft drink called -- you guessed it -- Moxie. The soda's been around for over 100 years, and in the '20s it actually outsold Coca-Cola. Sales have fallen off quite a bit since then, of course, but it's still being made and it still has a small-but-fervent following. Over the years, the Moxie Festival has grown into a 3-day extravaganza, with a parade, a car wash, a pancake breakfast, and even one of those medieval dress-up deals where everybody pretends they're Ivanhoe or whatever.
This year's festival takes place the weekend of July 11. I propose that we fly this young woman and this young woman to Lisbon, put a big plastic kiddie pool in the town square, fill it to the rim with Moxie soda, and let the two of them use it as a gladiatorial arena to decide who gets to use the pen name "Moxie." The Brawl for the URL! The Tiff to Claim the .GIF! The Boom Boom Boom for the Nom De Plume!
I also propose that someone take pictures of this event and place them on the Web. Many many pictures.
Update: Now the battle has spread to Tim Blair's. (Or at least someone calling himself "Tim Blair.") Comment wars are one way of settling it, I guess. Just seems to me this whole mess could be better resolved in a different venue, like e-mail or a shower stage.
Update II: Okay, now the catfight can begin. Let the males get in on the action...
Update III: Girls, don't look at the headline. Guys, I don't even need to tell you what to look at. Or some of the girls either, I guess. And I probably shouldn't assume that all of the... oh, never mind.
Update IV: Say, if you're one of the folks going absolutely bonkers in people's comments, with the threats and so on, could you please not do that? And sending crazy e-mail and all that, could you give it a rest? That doesn't do anybody any good. Thanks in advance.
Update V: Is it meme yet?
Update VI: Good advice!
Update VII: Oh, did you feel left out of the Traitor Club, Parrott? You done did it now!
Update VIII: Get them, my pretties! Fly! Fly! Flyyyy!!
Update IX: The probably-inevitable Metafilter thread.
Update X: Ultrablognetic provides a fukn oasis of sanity. (If that permalink isn't working, True Believer, look for the cover of Iron Man #4.)
Update XI: "I MEAN WTF PEOPLE SERIOUSLY"
Whoo! I'm kind of whipped after all my "entertaining"/blegging the last few days. My old buddy Puce hasn't been doing much since he forgot the password to his blog (something about "brane mamory as forgat FUCKFUCKFUCK AMERICAS"), so he's helping me out today. Take it away, Puce!
(Note: I'm keeping this at the top of the page just so nobody's like, "What's the deal, Free-Time Boy?")
Goodby stupad yanky dick fasis! GOODBY GOODBY FUCKYOU
Hay Bush wepon masterucshin? Their it is weight no just Irak babie no leg
What news, home brav land of free sampel? Missd Puce? Puce didant miss you! Treach sadfuck 'bew-hew babie need munny!' SHUTUP LOSAR
Wachinsk brothor suglass allblak cloths Neo waer dres kick fly talktalktalk PUCE AS BOARD CLICK
Well, I hope everyone has enjoyed today's blogging. Remember, the subscription button can be found on the right side of your screen, and it's only $1 a month. Thanks, and have a pleasant evening.
L.T. SMASH HAS advice for non-Americans who don't understand Americans.
I think it would be interesting to have Jim Treacher do his own version. . . .
Not a problem.
Dear The Rest Of The World:
HA HA HA!!!
Nation of Fat Bloodthirsty Cowboy-Nazis
P.S. Speaking of Instapundit, more Tennessee-related news here.
Welch and Layne also put up their IM names, so that should be hilarious.
Harvey Birdman is next.
Did you read the Salon article about the show?
What the hell are they talking about?
We just think it's a funny show.
It's not "pomo tonic".
But what do we know.
Birdman - Next
--Whoever writes the little interstitial text thingies with the jazz music on Adult Swim
And check out this perfect parody of that "Star Wars kid" who's suing everybody, with Andy Merrill (voice of Brak) in a Space Ghost costume. They've even got the split-second shot of a basketball game at the end.
"In the end I really don't care what I'm called, as long as it's not blogger." -- Matt Drudge
See, I should've just waited for Dawn to address the issue...
Update: Yeah, I heard about Sullivan's latest pledge drive too, and yeah, I rolled my eyes too. But if his readers think he's worth it, ain't nobody's business but theirs.
Check out Erik Blevins' latest blockbuster, Unseeable Fear:
LOGLINE: Man's darkest night-mare of fear: a exorcist woman bitten by a man who's a Werewolf bitten by a vampire -and then turns invisible.
A team of Hungarian researchers has found that, due to thousands of years of domestication, dogs' eyes can follow the gaze and gestures of humans to seek out a target.
In related news, a team of Korean researchers has found that dogs' eyes can also make a delightful garnish.
Fun Fametracker thread about Garofalo's scuttled sitcom, Slice o' Life. Stay tuned for her next project, Victim o' the Real Terrorists.
Holy crap, they're doing a remake of Walking Tall, with Buford Pusser played by... The Rock?!? Well, why not. Instead of that big hand-carved club, maybe he'll pound on guys with a metal chair while spouting a limited assortment of forceful catchphrases all ending with the words "candy ass." I bet the whiteface will look pretty dumb, though.
How about Bernie Mac for the remake of Mitchell?
Update: According to Greg's Previews, they're only keeping the title and concept, with a fictional main character. And it's set in... Washington State? What the shit? No offense to the fine people of Washington, but how do you have Walking Tall without Tennessee? Instead of busting up moonshiners, maybe he'll rampage through an independently owned bookstore. Well, at least they've got Johnny Knoxville in it as the token hilljack.
Next you'll be telling me they're making John Constantine an American... What's that?
Another thing to click and enjoy. Or at least click. (See here for why he switched.)
Also, thanks and congratulations to inaugural Treach of the Month Club member Charles Murtaugh!
While I was at Brunching Shuttlecocks setting up my other new donation button, I saw that they've closed up shop. That sucks. I hadn't checked it out in quite a while, but they always had something good. The archives are still open, at least, and they've started new sites for The Book of Ratings and The Self-Made Critic (with a 99% accurate Matrix Reloaded review).
Thanks for all the laffs, B'Cocks!
And in other news about Me, Your Money, and Me, thanks to Layne for the tip about the PayPal subscription feature. I just added a button for it, right under the regular PayPal button. It subscribes you for a dollar a month automatically. If that's not too eeee-vil.
Dang... folks in the comments here and the comments here are flipping out over my pathetic shameless horrible terrible freeloading ways. Haven't seen anybody get this testy over a buck or two since they started running those Carrot Top commercials. (I won't spend any of it on plastic surgery, honest. I can barely afford plastic utensils.)
Well, at least now I can say I've been reviewed at Blogcritics...
At the risk of repeating myself, I'm very grateful to everybody who's helped me out. I struggled with the very idea of it, and it's still giving me an ulcer I think. But like the man said: "The first year's always free." Apparently, a few people are displeased that they're being forced at gunpoint to keep coming here to read my dumb words and look at my stupid "cartoons," and then I have the nerve to suggest maybe it might be worth a dollar a month for the service, if you think that's fair. It's practically extortion, is what it is! But whatever. To the people who've stepped up and helped me pay a few bills that I didn't know how I was going to pay this month, I'm grateful.
If you don't think I deserve it, I ain't mad atcha. You could maybe not kick a guy when he's down? But if you just can't help it, I understand that it's really more about you than it is about me.
I can't find anything about it on the Web to link to, but on Olbermann last night, there was a story about a restaurant in Portland, OR called Pizza Schmizza that's been paying homeless people to walk around with signs advertising the place. Something like, PIZZA SCHMIZZA HIRED ME TO HOLD UP THIS SIGN INSTEAD OF ASKING YOU FOR MONEY. Although "hired" might be too strong a word... See, the owner gives them half a $5 bill, they hang around on street corners holding up the sign for however long, and then they get the other half of the fiver when they bring the sign back. (Kind of like Blogads, only more lucrative. (Just kidding, Henry! (Kinda!)))
Open letter to the owner of Pizza Schmizza:
This is my corner. Just tell me what you want me to do.
I realize it's not really timely, but as I was going through the old clip-art stuff from last year (before I got fed up with posting images to America Offline), this one actually cracked me up. It's kind of like cleaning out the attic and finding your old fingerpaintings or something. Except with more cussing. So I figured I'd repost it. Plus, it's fun to play with the "touch it and it gets bigger" deal, hee hee. (Which is a feature of this great new blog that I shouldn't have let Parrott set me up with, apparently. Sorry, everybody!)
What's this? Guess we'll find out in a couple weeks...
You know, Lyz brings up a good point... if I sold my computer, I bet I could afford cable modem service and Web hosting for like a year or two!
Wait, is that...? No, that makes sense. That makes sense.
I understand that you're upset, Lyz, but please think this through. If you don't feel I deserve a dollar a month for the humble amusements I provide, you're under absolutely no obligation to give me one. Considering your strenuous objections to my unmitigated gall for even suggesting such an idea, I'd feel pretty bad if you did.
Now, you certainly won't find your access blocked if you don't donate. So I'm not sure where all the anger is coming from. But if voting with your wallet isn't sufficient and it's just so frustrating that you can't stand it, you can vote in my latest poll or leave a few overheated posts in my comments. I guess you're ahead of me on that second one.
The point I'm trying to get at, Lyz, is that I'm here for you. We're here for you. Let it all out.
Update: Power to the purple pills!
Starting off with the hugest file, check out this stupid old minicomic with Superman and Batman exploring an alternative lifestyle. (Click the little panel there for an idea.) This gay guy I know said he actually thought it was touching in an emotional sense, so you're not allowed to get offended. It's a PDF file, so you need Adobe Reader to open it. But that don't cost nothin'. And it's zipped up with a readme file explaining how to print it out and fold it up, if it's not obvious already.
And as always, if you enjoy it... [Makes meaningful gestures over to the donation buttons]
Some guy just sold a "ghost in a jar," and the ending to what I'm sure is a really scary story, on eBay for $50,922. If he thinks ghosts are hard to catch, just wait till he tries to collect his money. (Via Reason.)
*No offense, Matt.
You have to wonder, though... how does this make anybody want to buy the product? "The new Honda Accord: When disassembled, very very very very very very carefully arranged, and filmed 606 times in a tasteful art space, its constituent parts provide a pleasant momentary distraction." And do you really want a car window that rolls down automatically when you touch it? Why not just call it the Honda Carjack? See, this is why I didn't go into marketing and advertising.
P.S. Note to Lileks: Listen closely to the narrator at the end...
Big thanks to everybody who's donated. I promise not to use it to buy all kinds of lipstick and such, and then write a book about how cute my massive credit-card debt is. Although I have to admit, Karyn has loads of great money-saving tips...
No More Salon Facials - Yeah, you heard me correctly. Getting regular facials at the salon can get really expensive, but let's be honest - sometimes they are necessary. But listen... I found this at home facial that seriously leaves my face feeling like I just got a professional facial.
Peter North does house calls?
Oops! Maybe Keanu isn't giving away his Matrix loot after all. And now he kind of looks like a dick if he doesn't, huh? Well, my bad, falling for it like that. Unless... unless the exposing of the hoax is itself a hoax...
OMG IT'S JUST LIKE WHEN THE COMPUTERS MADE EVERYBODY THINK REALITY WAS REAL WITH THE STEREO PLUGS ALL OVER THEIR BODY
I don't take back what I said about the Wackoffskis, though.
Sean Collins keeps bugging me to link to his blog, so here is a link to his blog. Maybe someday he can do something for me, hint hint. (No, I'm not hitting on him. He works for Abercrombie & Fitch Quarterly. He did this interview with Ren & Stimpy, for example. But yeah, sure, I'm glad to help a guy with an actual writing job get more attention. No problem. Nooooo problem.)
Update: I tried something different with it. Click it for the full-size thing, and use the Page Down key to scroll. Or you can right-click it and open it in a new window. I like my new pop-up capability (hhhhuh huh-huh...), and this way it's not so damn big and long (hhhhhhhhhuh huh-huh-huh-huh...)
Are you a Blogspot victim? Dean Esmay wants to help:
If you're currently on Blogspot, I will, free of charge, set you up with a Movable Type based blog. You will need $15 to register a domain, and $5/month. That's it. Nothing more. $15 up front and $5 per month. That gets you more speed, more reliability, much more powerful blogging software, and much more flexibility and freedom. As well as your own personal domain and set of email addresses.
That's basically how Parrott helped me out, and it's pretty awesome. Do it.
Update: Check out the comments for other non-Blogspot options.
You probably shouldn't be, due to the cussing and the increasingly oppressive sense of despair and whatnot, but as long as your mom says it's okay.
I'm too drained by my pathetic groveling to do a whole review, but I just wanted to say that DVD should stand for Donnie Vuckin' Darko.
Lyle bites the hand. He's right, though. He's right.
Update: A message from Onstad:
Next Wednesday, Ray's Place will be an advice column! He will help you with any issues you are having, whether they be on the subjects of romance, mixology, hi-fi equipment, cooking, what have you.
Email your particular issue to: firstname.lastname@example.org
Note: In his public reply to you, Ray will identify you by your initials and home state unless another moniker is specified by you.
From a movie review in this week's Onion A.V. Club (emphasis added):
The Weather Underground, a compelling reflection on a radical leftist splinter group that formed in 1969 and continued its activities through the end of the Vietnam War in 1975, premiered at Sundance in late January and is now receiving a theatrical release in early summer. In the time between, the war in Iraq began and quickly concluded, a testament not only to the efficiency of the American military, but also to the swiftness with which dissent was squashed before any significant resistance could be mobilized.
So... the war would still be going on if people like me hadn't made fun of Janeane Garofalo? Cool! SNARK FOR VICTORY
In other Garofalo news, Lafftracker reports that her pilot for ABC wasn't picked up. Well, at least it'll give her and Bill Maher something to holler about the next time she's on his show. Remember how ABC cancelled Politically Incorrect in the blink of an eye after that stuff he said about 9/11? Or, well, 9 months later. But still. Free speech!!!
(By the way, wasn't the title of Garofalo's pilot Slice o' Life, not Slice of Life? That wacky little o' sounds like just the sort of thing she used to get 5 minutes out of, back when she was doing comedy.)
New poll at the top of the main page. I know I only proposed the whole Dollar a Month thing a couple days ago, but just trying to keep it out there. So far I haven't had to cancel my $20/month Netflix subscription, which is sweet because it comes out to less than $2 a DVD if you don't have anything else to do all day. That's probably the first to go. Maybe get a few bucks for the player on eBay or something. And I guess I don't really need a phone... Cancelling the cable modem would make it a lot tougher to keep up the blog, which right now is the only thing getting me out of bed. Busting the cable TV down to just the local channels would mean getting rid of Olbermann and The Daily Show, but worse things have happened. Between Trader Joe's and clinical depression, the grocery bill's only about $100-120 a month, so that's not so bad. Been cutting way back on the drinky-drink, which is a waste of money and just makes things worse. Rent, electricity, medical insurance... can't really get around those.
I mean, it's not like a SaveKaryn situation, you guys. I'm not gleefully abdicating any responsibility for my own life because I had to have those shoes. Just hit a rough patch, like I know a lot of people have. ("Not so smug about those ZZZalon ads now, are ya, blog-boy?") I feel like all this blegging is wearing away at my soul, but things are seriously getting bad. If you can help out, I'd appreciate it. If you can't, thanks for reading. Hope you're getting something out of it.
Okay, I'll shut up about it. But if there's an interruption in service, you'll know why.
P.S. To answer your question: No, I'm not trying to "make it as a blogger." I am neither gay nor Republican, so there's little chance of that. Just trying to get through the month.
Oh man, Lileks could get a whole Bleat out of this...
That sucks, but he was 85 and I'm sure he wouldn't want anybody cryin' and whimperin' about it. Rent My Breakfast with Blassie instead, sissy.
Finally, a scratch ticket where you're guaranteed to win something. Okay, so the only prize is a chuckle, but that's something.
"You tell that hamhock Roger Ebert he could lose 30 pounds a day for the next four years and still be fat. As for the curse on his colon, what I actually said was that I put an unremovable black magic curse on his prostate, which will enlarge into a large cancerous ball by the fall... I want to challenge that fat cow to an IQ test. I bet him $1 million dollars to take a public IQ test against me. By the way, tell him I also put a curse on Siskel."
But she leaves out Ebert's response:
"I wish Mr. Gallo a speedy recovery."
Say what you want about Ebert, but that's some kinda class right there.
You think you've won, Parrott? This round, my friend. This round. Beware... THE TREACHER
Just now I realized I have a lot more room on my sidebar than I did on the old blog, so I widened the blogad space. If you've been meaning to buy an ad but didn't feel like squeezing it into 130 pixels, there you go. Or maybe you just hate me.
Okay, Cathy Seipp tells me I have "a dirty mind re: clip art," but check out the new clip art on her blog and tell me it's not cold in that room.
STEALS ELECTION FEELS ERECTION
Oh wait, that's John C. Dvorak. Honest mistake.
Just put up my Matrix Reloaded crybaby rant on Blogcritics. So if you read it here before, you can read it again and add a comment explaining the deep epistemological stuff I couldn't hear over all the snoring.
Just got an e-mail in reply to this post:
Subj: Vainglorious boast
From: [David Edelstein]
Ha ha. Beat you to it!
"Taste might have actually interfered with some of the best shots, such as the one in which the camera prowls the naked expanse of Monica Bellucci and her mounds of pink-ivory flesh become—in an instant—the snow-covered hills and dales of the southern French countryside. It kinda makes you think this will be France's biggest DVD as well."
Okay, okay, so maybe I can't write good or think clearly or see movies for free when they come out in theaters and then get paid to review them. The important thing is that Bellucci has a terrific set of melons.
P.S. Hey, hold on a second... David Edelstein reads my blog?!?
Larry Jonestowne writes to the subscription dept. of the New York Times:
I subscribed to your newspaper for 22 years. I believed every word and then I learned the truth: that you hire retarded people because of the government programs, and these people are made to write things they did not write, for reasons they did not know. First there is the one boy, then the older man with diabetes, then the "columnist" who jokes with lies about every little thing, and when would it end?
More here. It's like I've been telling you, folks: "One dollar! One dollar! Lies, Lies, Lies!"
By the way, I wish somebody would publish the second Jonestowne book. I really liked the first one.
Lafftracker.com is a lot like a political blog, only less funny. We highlight humorous websites, comedy-related news, and whatever else we think deserves your attention.
What a cool idea. And I'm not just saying that because I'm on the blogroll between Insomniac (yay!) and Jimmy Kimmel Live (...yay?).
You know, if everybody who checks out this blog more than once a month gave me a dollar, maybe I wouldn't have to move back in with my parents. Is this stuff worth a dollar a month to you? $12 a year? That's less than a subscription to Radar! (And without all the ads, since nobody's buying any.) Or think of it this way, 3.28767 cents a day. Come on, man. 3.28767 cents a day. That basement is cold.
Hey Keanu, why not throw some of those millions to the real heroes... everybody who sat still until the end of the movie!
Seriously, though, it's really cool that he's sharing the wealth like that. It doesn't seem right that the nerds most responsible for what the audience wants to see (amazing fight scenes that could never happen in real life) get paid a lot less than the two nerds most responsible for what the audience doesn't want to see (couple dozen boring speeches about pseudo-philosophical bullshit).
Dear Wackoffski Brothers,
Why don't you take a break from getting your panty-clad asses whipped by some chick in a black vinyl teddy -- asses you wouldn't even have anymore if the special effects team hadn't totally saved them -- and cut those guys a few checks yourselves?
The Moviegoing Public
In retrospect, this amazingly retarded Flash animation must have been a subconscious influence on Puce. Just stumbled on that while searching for something else. I remember watching it a long time ago when somebody posted it to a message board. Watched it several times, actually. But I'd thought it was lost forever. What the boy is trying to say is that he loves Doritos.
Dawn had a dream about me, but she's only written up the first part because she's not feeling too good. Send her get-well wishes so I can find out what I did! Plus so she'll feel better. Feel better, Dawn!
Speaking of dreams, Onstad pointed out this cool dream comic: Slow Wave. Submit that weird dream about your Uncle Gary turning into a hundred-headed serpent and chasing you around the Epcot Center, and maybe this guy will draw it!
According to Kevin Parrott. It seems like 20 years since Cross & Odenkirk first announced it, and I'm sure they're sick of people asking about it. Unfortunately, the bootleg I saw wasn't that good. Since I'm in the mood to "repurpose" my old Blogspot crap, why not repost part of my review from last September...
I just watched a bootleg of Run Ronnie Run, the as-yet-unreleased Mr. Show movie about a drunken redneck moron who does a lot of stupid shit, becomes a TV star who does a lot of stupid shit, and then tries to win back his one true love while engaging in many activities that indicate a marked lack of brainpower. Bob Odenkirk and David Cross are right when they say it actually isn't that great, or at least this edit isn't. It has its moments, and narrator David Koechner could read the phonebook with that Backwoods Genetic Mishap accent and I'd laugh (almost as funny as his "Jerry Prastis" character), but it's just not as good as even the lesser episodes of the series. The Ronnie Dobbs sketches in 2 episodes of the show, maybe 15-20 minutes in all, had more laughs than this entire movie.
Part of the greatness of the show was that once a sketch had reached maximum laugh potential, they were already doing one of their patented transitions to the next sketch. But here the pacing is all off, you get pretty sick of Ronnie less than halfway through, and the handful of non-Ronnie bits don't work (including a Survivor parody and some sort of obscenity-laden Mary Poppins-type thing with Jack Black). It's just anvils thudding left and right for 86 minutes. It's like an SNL movie, and I can't tell you how much it hurts to say that.
But New Line needs to release it anyway, at least on video, because 30 seconds of Nikki Cox flouncing around in a shiny leopard-print bikini makes up for the rest of it. A still picture just doesn't capture the sheer seismic activity going on there. And Jill Talley there on the left, she ain't bad either. She looks even better now than she did on the show, however many years ago.
(So that was back in September. I'll probably still rent it when it comes out on DVD and freeze-frame that particular scene for "research" purposes, but I'm thinking it won't be worth buying. Here, read this glowing review of Hooray for America to balance things out.)
(Via Jarvis. Who kind of looks like that guy. Hmmm...)
I was just looking around the Marijuanalogues site some more, wishing I had some myself (logs, that is), and it turns out Doug Benson has been doing movie review segments on Jimmy Kimmel Live. Unfortunately, I haven't watched that show since this review came out of me. But those guys are going to be on JKL this Tuesday night, doing the thing where they sit on stools and talk about illegal drugs like it's no big deal, so I'll be tuning in. Or Tivoing it and fast-forwarding to their part, at least.
Hey! Doug Benson, the guy from the Marijuanalogues who does the movie reviews at BobandDavid.com, just posted a comment on my Matrix rant. (No, he's not a regular reader. I e-mailed him the link because I figured he'd like the phrase "The MILFtrix Re-boner'd.") And I couldn't agree more with his take on the movie. "Who ARE these people?" is right. I had a hard enough time caring about the returning characters, let alone the 50 new ones. They could've at least taken off their sunglasses so I could tell them apart! Or, as Doug put it in his I Love Movies! review: "Note to the Wachowski brothers: Less yappy, more slappy… no nappy."
If you can download I mean legally pay to watch Bill Maher's HBO show, check out the one with the Marijuanalogues. I personally believe that pot is evil*, but pot humor is some funny shit. Well, the Marijuanalogues is, anyway. [Update: You can watch it here without making Jack Valenti cry. Doug's the one in the middle.]
*As explained in my post of October 29, 2002:
Time.com is polling readers on the following question: "Should marijuana be legalized?" I call upon all 37 of my loyal readers to do the right thing and send them a resounding NO. Do you really want the upper-middle-class adolescents of this great nation getting "high" and blowing each other's heads off in a fit of "dope fever"? Do you want some twisted "reefer-brain" feeling up your sweet daughter's private parts at depraved "maryjane" parties? You sure don't, is what!
Remember: If marijuana is legalized, only law-abiding citizens will have marijuana... as well as people who are criminals for other reasons. Think about that one, Mr. & Mrs. One-Puff-Won't-Hurt-Anybody-Dear-God-Where-Am-I-
Jarvis and Layne are talking about how Cameron Diaz is a big pizza-face and HDTV isn't very flattering. Well, she's not the only one who's probably worried. You know, that page almost makes me feel better about myself.
(I dug up this old post from over a year ago to answer a comment below about my affection for the wonderfully evocative phrase "Eat a dick," and it didn't make me cringe too much when I reread it, so I figured I'd repost it here where people can actually read it. The more things change...)
Just watched a few days' worth of The Daily Show -- let's hear it for Tivo and friendless Saturday nights -- and three loosely related things stand out in my mind [Loosely related, that is, in the context of being on the show that week. Duh. -- JT]:
1. Paula Zahn's android chirpiness creeps me the fuck out. Why is anybody fighting over this woman? She didn't even have the decency to wear a skirt for her TDS interview, which would have been my only reason for not fast-forwarding through it after the 14th time she plugged her unwatchable morning show. (American Morning really does jump out at you from the TV listings, but I would have gone with Coffee Zahn.) "Cheerfully" insisting she's doing hard news, bragging about talking to Arafat's Deputy Secretary of Beard Trimmings or somebody. Grinning insanely the whole time. The lab boys at CNN need to snap open that panel in the small of her back and see if they can find the loose wire.
2. We bombed the living hell out of Japan a while back, we really creamed them, as I recall reading somewhere, and now they've made a dancing robot that can discern human faces and probably costs more than my last three cars put together. I call that progress. So, maybe it's not always our fault when something goes wrong with the world? Maybe people make their own choices? Maybe a culture can pull itself together after a loss more devastating than anything most of us can even imagine? Say what you want about the Japanese, they've obviously got their own ways of dealing with their feelings, but they're not blowing themselves up in pizza parlors because of shit that happened before they were born. They're not flying planes into buildings so they can get revenge on the evil American janitors and secretaries and lunch ladies who've been oppressing them, secure in the knowledge that their resulting afterlife will be a nonstop, doe-eyed-virgin-packed jizzfest. No, they've moved on. Yeah, okay, maybe these robots' descendants will one day destroy the human race. But those unstoppable steel-clad murder machines will be killing everybody, whether they're Jews or not.
3. Jon Stewart is amazing. Not since his first show back after 9/11 have I been so impressed with the guy. I've purposely avoided talking much about the Middle East in this online vanity press, not only because I'd just embarrass myself even more than I already do, but because the whole thing makes me want to hide under my desk with a bottle of cough syrup. And that's basically what he said too, except for that last part. The guy is for real. I mean, he managed to work an 18 Again reference into his plea for peace in the Middle East, and then apologized for making jokes about it, but it's either that or cry. And he made you understand that he's as distraught and disgusted over the whole thing as everybody else, but he's got to do his job anyway. Eat a big plate of dicks, Kilborn.
I'm not a historian, or a sociologist, or a political analyst, or an expert on pretty much anything, but... Look. We can make clones, we can make robots, we can make a leggy simulacrum of a human female and program it to read aloud from a teleprompter while smiling. We're on the verge of developing a machine that will enable James Lileks to compose a really good novel every night while he sleeps. Right now I'm wearing an amazing, super-absorbent adult undergarment that would have been undreamt of 100 years ago. We're pretty much forcing science fiction to try to keep up now. So, can't we come up with some sort of memory-erasing ray out of a Phil K. Dick novel or something? Wipe out the memories of everybody in Israel and Northern Ireland and everyplace else in the world where people are murdering each other over shit that's been going on for decades, centuries?
"Why the fuck do I have this thing strapped to my chest? Weird... Oh well. Hey, how you guys doing? You know, I could really go for one of those, what do you call it, the chewy things with the hole in the middle. You guys seem pretty cool, you wanna go get some of those? Just help me peel this stupid thing off first, it's chafing like a bitch."
Memor-Ray™, you could call it. Hell, just send it up on a satellite and shoot the whole damn planet with it. Bring on the amnesia beams, please. Worldwide do-over. I wouldn't mind not knowing my own PIN number if it bought an end to this shit.