I get some expressions. Like the one below. Apes sometimes throw their feces. If you’re acting crazy, it could be said you are acting like a monkey, and, symbollically, hurling feces. This one makes no sense. If someone were blowing smoke up my butt, I’d not only wonder what I was doing wrong, but also wonder why no one else was stopping this other person from doing something else wrong to me.
As most of you know, I do stand up around St. Louis. It’s a lot of fun, and living in a city in which I don’t know that many people, it’s a great way to do my own thing for myself and meet other people.
One of the people I’ve met is Gene Kitsmiller. He’s a nice guy who’s about my dad’s age. He loves old school comedy from the early 80’s, like Seinfeld’s older stuff, Paul Reiser, and a lot of old Jay Leno “observational” type material. Not my style, but hey, it works for him. Anyway, I think he’s had a tough time lately, something about his dad letting him go from their family business to make room for his sister’s boyfriend or something. With more time on his hand, he’s gotten to finally take the plunge and fulfill a dream of his to get on stage, crossing it off his ol’ bucket list. This is maybe his third performance ever, and I think his other two ended with him blacking out and/or throwing up.
I thought he did okay. Check him out here.
I mean, Philly’s got a statue of Rocky Balboa in it, and Robocop won, at the very least, twice as many Academy Awards as the Rocky franchise. Plus, I never saw a Rocky cartoon series like I did with Robocop, and THAT’S the true mark of a successful film.
GET ON THIS DETROIT. YOU HAVE TO START HELPING YOURSELF OUT OF THIS TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE SITUATION THAT IS YOUR CURRENT EXISTENCE.
I haven’t been following this whole Brett Favre texting his weiner to some people very closely. One website I follow pretty closely, Kissing Suzy Kolber, offered to show it to me, as one of their founders works for Deadspin, who unearthed the penis.
I declined. No, really, I’ve never seen it.
But luckily I have-…. NO, I HAVEN’T SEEN IT, I SWEAR TO GOD. I DO NOT WANT TO SEE BRETT FAVRE’S DONG. But luckily I have the sleepy village of Asia to re-enact every sordid detail of the event through the wizardry that is CGI. Yes, like Toy Story. Just like Toy Story. Only BETTER.
- I love the depiction of the NFL investigators. High fiving around an office, chest bumping, fist pumping. I like to imagine this is how it really is. “Oh yeah! We’ve been handling substance abuse cases ALL DAY, and FINALLY we get a dong-in-text! From BRETT FRIGGIN FAVRE! SCOOORE!”
- The Doghouse. Clinton. Tiger. Now, Favre. And they’re READY to PARTY!
All in all, pretty awesome.
Seriously, stop asking if I’ve seen Brett Favre’s weiner.
In our offices, everyday it seems like Zack gets a piece of Hate Mail from just about any and everybody you could imagine. Here are some of the keepers:
I must say that it pains me to read this unholy drivel. I spend plenty of time on this computer and on the internet in general. I know there’s some stuff out there that’s pretty bad, but you? I think you take cake, mister. This is just some of the worst dose of poppycock of utter fooey out there.
It’s just a whole lot of filth and flarn, and I know about some filth and flarn.
I don’t know how many youngsters, not that different from you, I’ve talked to about their personal struggles to fight sin and temptation in their everyday life. They get caught up in the rush of talking to girls their age. Some of these girls these days, why, they look like full-grown women! Wearing short skirts, spaghetti straps, shirts that are tighter than a frog’s rear end, or sometimes delightfully loose and billowy, bouncing around in all manner of shoes that have heels no shorter than 3 to 6 inches, sometimes in the best shape of anyone you’ve ever seen in your life…these are the temptations these boys are facing everyday! And I try to help them the best I can, but it’s people like you, and other people, out there on the internets, who are putting up digital and irresistably sexy roadblocks between themselves and the Lord.
I’m not saying I’m perfect. But I can recognize the patterns well enough. Oh, the danger!
You know some of these idolators, heathens, and sinners are right here in our neighborhood? They’re all over the place! Why there’s a whole church league softball team full of sexy teenage singles just dying to meet and mingle! I’ve seen heard about them from some of my more troubled teens. Apparently – I say “apparently” now, because it seems you can run into these things with their links and their pictures without even MEANING to, for Pete’s sake – they’ve got photos, names, and ages, and small nearby towns listed there! As many nearby towns, with directions and everything, that you can possibly imagine. There’s just a children’s toy chest full of men, women, whatever people ready to giggitygiggityGETDOWN get to sinnin’.
It’s tough for people like me to look at people like you without shuddering in the presence of a sinner such as yourself.
If there’s anything I’ve learned since last Tuesday, when I resigned (I resigned, by the way, I was not fired, I resigned, I resigned, I resigned) it’s that this sin is everywhere. It’s on your televisions, it’s in your DVD collections, even some old VHS copies from back in the day, it’s in your low-riding vehicle enthusiast’s riding magazines, and it’s in all seven of your personal computers. There’s a great plague, Zachary, a great flood of diseases, temptations, downfalls, and ignorance about the vile dangers of these types of things that I’m trying to tell you, for your own benefit, to quit writing these articles that deal with such violence and anger and sin. Next thing you know, the whole wall of your office will be ripped down and you’ll be out in broad daylight with your pants around your ankles, mouth agape, hating the sight of daylight. So to speak, metaphorically.
Seriously. If you mess up enough, they put you in a database and you have to go house to house, or apartment to apartment, trailer to trailer saying what you…wrote. It sucks, or so I’ve heard.
Just please stop sinning. That is all.
Rev. Jeremiah Madson
This is one of my favorite videos of all time for a number of reasons.
It goes without saying that I’m a huge Disney fan. I grew up on movies like Alice in Wonderland, Aladdin, Robin Hood (the one with the fox, not Kevin Costner), and Beauty and the Beast. Any reference therein is duly appreciated, even though, in hindsight, some of these films are a little frogged up.
I went and saw Beauty and the Beast (the musical version) last night at the Muny in Forest Park, the largest outdoor stage in the US of A, which reminded me of this froggishness. A few notes:
- The Enchantress who started all this stuff was a little hasty in my judgement. Some old and crazy looking woman comes up offering me flowers, I’m probably going to shut the door in her face, too, and I’m ridiculously polite. If she transformed into a beautiful woman, I’d still be like “Whoa…you’re still homeless, right?” /Another door slam. And she did it WAY before his 21st birthday. The kid wasn’t even legal and you’re essentially dooming him to look like a lionbullwolf? That’s not cool, lady. Not cool.
- Anyone else find it mildly off-putting that as the servants transformed into objects that reflected their personality (e.g. Cogsworth became a clock because he was wound tightly, etc.), Lumiere (original name, Walt) became a candlestick, which is one of the more common household murder weapons of all time? “Oh, Cogsworth, you’re a clock?! Lumiere, you’re a candlestick! Jeff, you’re a loaded handgun!” Also, Lumiere seemed to be a bit of a Pepe Le Pew-esque rapist. Just sayin’.
- Disney did right by making the coolest character in the movie the villain, Gaston. Very Darth Vader of them. However, they didn’t give him the death he deserves. He haphazardly falls off the castle after shanking the Beast, fading into the darkened depths to an assumed fatal dose of blunt force gravitational trauma? Whatever. Meanwhile, a random henchman gets the COOLEST death in a Disney movie when the Opera-singing wardrobe crushes a man to death. Go to 1:10 at this video. After a quick cut to Gaston to let the Wardrobe smear the blood and guts off her, the man is still fused to the hardwood floor crater. THAT’S a way to go.
- I understand that this is a version of a fairytale, but this movie was made in 1991; the concept of love really should’ve been about more than just a dying smooch. I mean, even I kissed more than ONE consenting female prior to my 21st birthday. That’s not love. But I guess that would’ve been too real. Also, I guess that would’ve opened up a Pandora’s box and a wellspring of kid’s questions about the social restraints against bestiality, love-making, etc.
Whatever, I’m over it.
I also love that video because I love Three 6 Mafia. I’ve already mentioned this before (and it’s an awesome story), but one of my fondest memories of college was after the 2007 Academy Awards. The rap trio won for Best New Song in a Film for “Hard Out Here For a Pimp” in Hustle n Flow. You would have though the Grizzlies would have won the NBA Finals (although this is still probably more likely to happen again than that). Best part? At the time, it was Martin Scorsese – zero, Three 6 Mafia – one on the “How many Oscars do you own?” scale.
In the post-award interview, I believe it was DJ Paul (left, belly full) who pointed to his golden, highly coveted Academy Award and said “I’ma hafta melt this thang down; You can’t buy weed and pussy with this.”
So friggin fly.
So anyway, that’s a cool video. Hate Mail coming soon. Booyah.
Today I feel like spreading love.
Everyone has their office routine. You get to work, or wake up and finally get in front of a computer, and you go to certain regular sites, usually news or interest related. I usually go in this order:
Seriously, you should check all of these out. You’ll get everything there is to need to know in the world. Especially that last one. If you’ve got nothing to do for a month, flip through those hundreds of pages for the awesome.
So I’d like to share some more recent sites I’ve been to from people who I happen to know and have met and enjoy reading their material. They’re all worth your time. I wouldn’t be sending you to them if I didn’t already think that, right? Okay, good, glad we’re on the same page again.
Gregg Roberson is a St. Louis comedian who I’ve run into a couple of times doing my own shows. He’s friends with a bunch of great improvisers I’ve seen, and we’ve done some stand up at the same time and place. He’s got a deadpan, very well-timed, yet somehow organic delivery of joke after joke, paraprosdokian after paraprosdokian, and delivers it in a “countdown” structure.
The second best part about Gregg’s set is that he looks like he’s not trying very hard, which is something I appreciate. The first best part is that he’s hilarious. His site has some of his sets, some of his best lines and a bunch of general info on him. Definitely worth catching if you’re in the midwest, and definitely worth following if you’re…not in the midwest, or in the midwest, too.
Joe Hipperson is a St. Louis radio personality who has this feverish following that feels like an underground cult, while being completely out in the open. He used to have a full-time show, then he didn’t, then he did, then it’s part-time…pretty hard for even he to keep up with. So Joe said “F THIS MEDIUM” and when not radioing, puts up boatloads of content about what he’s thinking, what he’s observing, and what he’s thinking about observing, all of which could be contradictory. He’s just going to say whatever he’s going to say, DEAL WITH IT.
One of the more interesting/original features is his “Ask Lashawna” segment, in which readers submit questions to his wife, Lashawna, and she gets to fire off at the mouth at them. She’s hilarious in her own right, and seeing the two interact (with Joe behind the camera) is very Burns-Allen-esque, if George and Gracie were punk rocker types living in Imperial, Missouri.
Being that I know the Hipp Family from our kickball exploits, it should also be stated for the record that Joe is remarkably unathletic, and that when he runs, it can be said accurately it resembles a newborn giraffe running from a predator, or an old, bed-ridden woman having to get up and run from her burning house.
So I played football with this guy, Dan. He was very good at football, and subsequently earned a scholarship to play at the University of Nevada at Las Vegas. Now, in my undergraduate days in Memphis, I remember thinking This city is no place for an absent-minded college lad to lose his mind. I can only imagine the same was true for Mr. Rankin being in LAS FREAKING VEGAS.
This blog is literally peering into the mind of a mad man. But don’t worry, he’s cuddly, just without any body hair whatsoever. Drank apparently suffers from a similar condition I had when I was a kid, in that the thoughts racing through my head were at such a quick pace, it kept you awake. While in the mid-90’s, I took sleeping medication, it seems Dan has taken to blogging. He literally writes about whatever he’s thinking about right when he’s doing it. It is very original in its stream of conscious delivery, and also its candidness and candor.
There’s a lot of candor. Such as (my personal favorite) the one where he said exactly what he felt to every one of his ex-girlfriends. While I don’t mind reading his opinions on terrible texters, Texas, or the Twilight saga, I’d much rather hear him talk about more original (personal) stories like losing an all-African-American beauty pageant by three points (Rankin himself is Caucasian), his drunken submissions on an internet dating site or, oh yes, telling one of his ex-girlfriends, “I’m so happy for you and your new breasts. Keep checking those puppies on the REG, big dawg.”
So put these guys into your daily reads. And [insert somewhat humble but still self promotional drivel about coming to my site here]! You guys are awesome.