The Onion A.V. Club has a new feature called "Say Something Funny", in which a comedian is given 250 words to do just that. They'll never stretch the definition of "comedian" wide enough to let in a blogger, of course, let alone one with my track record. But why not enter the Land of Make Believe and pretend they did?
I've got 250 words, huh? Let's see... Oh! Here's something funny I can say: "Suck my dick, muthafucka!!!" I guess that's only funny if you can hear the way I said it as I was typing it, which was TOTALLY HILARIOUS.
How many words is that? One, two, three... 41 words. Okay. Um... Does "Um..." count as one of the words? You guys should provide some sort of guidelines. I'm not saying that to be critical, just speaking from the other side of the desk, you know? Sometimes you have to work these things out as you go, I understand how it is.
Wow, this is harder than I thought. Do I need to use up the whole 250 words? I think the "suck my dick" thing was pretty funny. If I made an MP3 of me saying that, and then you could link the MP3 to where I wrote that? Like you click on it, and then you hear it? Could we work that out? I mean, it's called "Say Something Funny," not "Type Something Funny." I'm not sure what you people want from me.
Okay, this is pissing me off now. Why don't YOU say something funny? Yeah, come on, slay me. Go ahead, genius. Huh? I can't hear you. Not so easy, is it? Yeah. That's right. Why don't you go back to reviewing Japanese porno cartoons, or, or whatever it is you little fucks do all day, and I won't have to come over there and
Jim Treacher is a "blogger." His web site is jimtreacher.com.
Update: I'm told by a couple of cartoonist acquaintances that the strip might be less eye-offending (if not actually, you know, funny) on Breathed's computer. Which seems ironic to me. I mean, O. Henry-type irony. It's like a musician building a state-of-the-art recording studio, but then refusing to put out records on anything but wax cylinders. Maybe Breathed meant to call the strip Oops? I just
picked a fight initiated a spirited conversation about it here.
Never mind the unfortunate connotation of the acronym, just get your dead ass over to Acid Keg and vote for it in the buzzComix Top 100. Every day you get a new Keg Kook when you vote, kind of a virtual trading card with a goofy Steve Hogan character. So there's no reason not to vote, unless you're just willfully opposed to the very idea of fun.
I've got Keg Kooks #1 (Joey Rabbitini), #2 (Grape-O-Saurus), and #4 (Cy-Bear), but I'm missing #3. Anybody got #3? Holding a #3, dude?
Kitty Bukkake on "Our Michael," who apparently she met once and who her mom still thinks couldn't possibly have done these horrible things:
I do wonder, chimps and allegations aside, why parents let their kids hang out with a 45 year old guy who acts like he's eight and is so obviously out of his mind. Hmm. I wonder if it has anything to do with, like, I don't know, money or something like that. What if we, and by we I mean young hypothetical me and all the other children whose parents have not looked at a photograph of Michael Jackson in 15 years and are seemingly unaware that his face is no longer made of face, woke up one morning in the magic enchanted sparkle forest pig-pile party bed before he'd snapped his nose on? This guy is scary. Not Thriller scary. Bad clown scary. I wish somebody would please help Michael Jackson. Arnold, you think you're so big, let's see you field this one.
Ever since he played the Scarecrow in The Wiz, Mike has had to settle for being second best. That ends today!
(Sung to the tune of "If I Only Had a Brain")
If a dev'lish prosecutor
And nerds at their computers
Are causin' you some pain
Just think back to days so jolly
Cozy spoonin' with Macaulay
When you sorta had a brain
On your habits they've been dwellin'
Your records ain't been sellin'
You're not the one to blame
You could teach 'em 'bout the Jew shit
That's kept you from movin' units
If you only had a brain
Oh, you could tell 'em how
You grew into your nose
How the kiddies share your bed in all their clothes
With almost no fellatios
Though they call you weird and creepy
No need for feelin' weepy
As things go down the drain
If it's prison where you're goin'
Think of Webster as you're blowin'
Out that thing you call a brain
No, I have not seen the Paris Hilton sex tape. If I wanted to watch a skeleton getting pounded, I'd rent Jason and the Argonauts.
Elizabeth Spiers asks: "If Michael Jackson goes to jail, how will he possibly maintain his nose?" I don't know, but I think he should be more worried about toning up his rectal column for a prolonged visit to the Graybar Hotel. One of the urban legends is, he's had so many enemas that he's lost all muscle control up in there and needs to use tampons to keep from crapping his pants. Will his slack, rapidly aging bran-canyon be of much use to any but the most freakishly endowed convicts? And would you want to put your dick in that face, unless you're an adorable moppet who's just been slipped a mickey while your parents are shooed away to the petting zoo? No, Mike will need to come up with some other form of currency in the joint, or he might find himself reenacting the knife-fight from "Beat It" without all the dancing.
You remember Jonathan Brandis, the kid from SeaQuest and Ladybugs and Stephen King's It? He died on Nov. 12 at age 27, cause apparently still unknown, and it took several days for anybody to report it. It's not like he was Rerun from What's Happening, but he was a main character on a fairly popular show just 10 years ago, and he was still getting acting work. It's strange that the Hollywood obituary machine hasn't revved up even a week later. (I first saw it on the Fametracker message boards, for crying out loud.) Maybe the press is wary of another Adam Rich incident? Thanks again, Eggers...
Now, here's the creepy thing. Last night I was looking at his IMDb page to see what he'd been doing since SeaQuest. One of the most recent entries is a still-unreleased movie called Puerto Vallarta Squeeze, and here's what you see in the user comments:
jonnybrandis (email@example.com) Los Angeles, CA
Date: 2 January 2003
Summary: Oh No..........
Just saw a sneak preview of this flick. Personally, I am pretty flexible with the kinds of films I will watch. Here's the catch: Somehow, Jonathan Brandis manages to destroy yet *another* film. Discouraging, at best. Nice camera work and editing, though.
What's that all about? Was this a stalker using a variation of his target's name? (I've heard about that sort of thing.) A disgruntled SeaQuest fan? Brandis himself, mocking his own faltering career? Let the conspiracy theories begin.
Update: As expected, the e-mail address bounced back.
I'm no media expert, but it's quite possible that this MSNBC piece on Michael Jackson's latest kiddie problems has broken the record for Most Prison-Rape References Per Paragraph of anything published under the Microsoft banner. It's missing a Gary Glitter joke to go along with the R. Kelly one, but maybe that's just me.
I hope Philippe is okay. It's getting late, and we haven't heard from him since yesterday. Who knows how far he can drive that van using his teeth? And how is he reaching the pedals...?
If you're worried about the repercussions of everybody finding out you're stalking me, how about, oh, maybe not stalking me? An ounce of prevention and all that. Seems obvious, but maybe that's just me.
...I'm really liking The Darkness. They're a British band that plays basically hair metal, cock rock, whatever you want to call it. Pretending the last 20 years never happened, which seems like an okay idea to me. The lead singer has this ridiculous Tiny-Tim-being-castrated-in-a-helium-tent wail and wears outfits that would make Freddie Mercury go "Tone it down, sissy," and they've got songs with titles like "Get Your Hands Off My Woman (Motherfucker)" and "Love On The Rocks With No Ice." I can't tell if they're making a big joke (like Satanicide) or if they really mean it, or some combination thereof, but I like it. It's kind of like if Tenacious D lost 70% of their body weight and started rocking even harder. Or Spinal Tap if they weren't faking their accents and maybe, just maybe, weren't kidding.
Check out their videos and see just how lame I am. The best one is where a pterodactyl humps a spaceship and the spaceship drops giant eggs from the sky and the band hatches out of the eggs as little kids, and then the kids fly around in a helicopter and it gets hit by lightning and turns them into adults, and then they land and run into a big mansion and start rocking out. We need more videos like that.
Moxiegirl is delving into drinking-straw origami.
Wicked Moxie has a new personal trainer who's helping her become "a total ninja."
Pinkmoxie is headed off to Sydney.
Showyermoxie likes Keira Knightley.
Moxie Stylie just got a new job.
And please welcome Moxiegurl, who just started her blog yesterday.
With the news that Welsh grampa-hugger Catherine Zeta-Jones is threatening to sue anybody who publishes claims that she's on Atkins, it might be fun to test just how determined she is to distance herself from the low-carb, meat-rich diet. From here on out, let's all refer to her as Catherine Plate-o-Bones. Let me know how it goes.
Tony Danza on his upcoming talk show: "I can't wait to spend an hour a day with America."
America: "...yeah, that, uh... that sounds really great, Tony. We'll have to do that sometime, seriously. Tell you what, I'll give you a call, okay?"
Iggy Pop w/ Sum 41 on The Late Show with David Letterman
Doesn't he have track marks older than they are?
The Strokes on Late Night with Conan O'Brien
If they don't care, why should I?
The RZA on Last Call with Carson Daly
Wait, why the hell am I watching Last Call with Carson Daly?
Hello. Lately I've been busy earning money so I don't have to update this stupid blog from the public library before I head back home to the dumpster behind the barber college. I'm glad to have the work, although my boss is kind of a dick, the polyester uniform is itchy, and I've got 2nd-degree burns on my wrist and forearm from the fry machine. But hey, a job's a job, right? If I play my cards right, I might make assistant manager by the time I hit 40.
Thank you for checking back. Hope you are well.