lowercase thots, november 2006
(random things that pop into my sprained mind while i'm working)

one time a guy told me he had recently been born again so i told him he should go put on some diapers. (my friend noel says i should have asked the guy if he had two belly buttons)

the last time i was in chicago i almost caught a cold but luckily for me steve bartman got in the way

i'm a lapsed agnostic. i have more important things to think about

i once saw a very low-budget stage production of pink floyd's 'the wall'. they used a cubicle wall. at the end when they go 'tear down the wall!' a guy just walked up to it and tipped it over. rather anti-climactic

i made a pilgrimage to the spot where ernie kovacs veered off the road and fatally crashed. i stood on the exact spot. it felt very weird standing where he veered

my childhood dog was named scooter by his previous owners with whom he rode on their motorcycle as a puppy. i wonder if they rode on just their back wheel, because it would be really weird if he were wheelie-reared

i always like to say something when i sneeze: 'ahhh shiznit!' 'hot cheese!' etc. but my new favorite is 'iiiii sneezed!' it's the long-awaited sequel to what i say when i burp: 'i burped'

i'm all in favor of adoption but it doesn't always work out. just ask the manson family

you can learn a lot of new words doing crossword puzzles, but most of them are only used in crossword puzzles. when's the last time you used 'ague' or 'eft' or 'erne' in normal conversation? and how much are eli wallach and arte johnson paying for all those mentions?

even if i wanted people to bless me (which i don't), i still wouldn't want them to waste it on a harmless little sneeze. save it for when i'm in a car accident or i'm diagnosed with ass cancer

smart financial move on my part: starting that rumor years ago about razor blades in halloween candy. now i don't have to buy as much to hand out

how many songs have you heard where the first line is something about waking up in the morning? ever wonder why that is? as a guy who's written a few songs, i can tell you why: it's because the songwriter, whether he had a topic in mind or just decided for some self-disciplinary reason to make himself sit down that day and write a song, was stuck for a first line, and thus resorted to reviewing what he had done so far that day. 'let's see...i woke up, and then...'

the 'whose line' drinking game: when watching a rerun of 'whose line is it anyway', whenever wayne brady is making up a song and begins a line with the word 'because', do a shot. warning: you will probably die of alcohol poisoning

how to get people to stop talking on their cell phones on the bus: put your ear up next to their phone to try to hear what the other person is saying. if they have a problem with that, they can hang up and call back after they get off the damn bus!

there are no atheists in foxholes because we're not stupid enough to enlist in the first place!

why aren't there more orange cars?

i wrote a poem in which i rhymed 'orange' with 'door hinge'. i just hope the poetry cops don't come after me. i doubt it. they've got their hands full with eminem

when i peed on the witness stand the judge declared 'urine contempt of court!'

just so you know, i'm ashamed that george w. bush is from the same universe as me

when i hear someone described as 'high maintenance' i think of the kind of potheads who have to maintain a high 24/7. even at work (you know, like my ex)

dick clark is hosting 'new year's rockin eve' again this year, giving whole new meaning to the phrase 'stroke of midnight'

the animals they use for animal cracker shapes are never the ones we eat normally. who the heck is eating circus animals? where are the cows, pigs and chickens? when's the last time you ate actual giraffe meat? i say if you're going to go in the other direction, be more exotic: platypus, squid...how about a stingray cracker? that'd be timely. tho they probly won't sell down under. here's another idea: endangered animal crackers! pandas, fur seals, california condors...that'll *really* piss off the vegetarians!

'drug trafficking' is kind of an odd phrase. makes me think of a drug traffic jam. 'whoa dude, i am totally not moving...' *honk honk* 'hey! move your damn pot! i'm on speed here!'

you ever have a coughing jag reach the point where every time you cough, you also hiccup? scary, isn't it? it's like your body's whole system is about to erupt into total chaos. how about when you sneeze and you lose control of your bodily functions for just a split second which is just long enough to make you poot? nothing throws a monkey wrench into your plans for the day like an unexpected sneeze-poot

i saw an item in the paper today about test-tube koalas. chalk up another band name!

'x marks the spot.' no it doesn't. a spot marks the spot. x marks the x

kids are getting arrested for downloading songs for free. why wasn't i arrested when i taped songs off the radio with my cassette player as a kid? yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me

can you imagine a pirate movie a hundred years from now? 'pirates of the internet: the curse of the napster'...starring johnny depp's great-great-grandson as shawn fanning and nigel hawthorne's great-great-grandson as lars ulrich

strange the things that stick in one's brain. whenever i encounter the number 721, i think of that steel-belted tire commercial from 30 years ago: 'seven...around two...wrapped by one'

as of this writing, it seems we are just two assassinations away from a female president. now's the chance for some gun-toting radical feminist to really make a name for herself

my standard reply to 'watch your mouth!' has always been 'i can't, my nose is in the way'

i have no problem with o.j. simpson. he gives hope to all of us who would like to kill our exes

can we as a society please agree not to draw the numeral 6 sideways? and execute those who do? and stop putting that little line thru the 7s!

back when the first 3-blade razor came out, snl did a parody ad about a 4-blade razor. now there are acutal 5-blade razors. therefore, i feel it is my duty to update the parody: 'presenting the new 6-blade razor! the first blade pulls the hair out, then the second blade holds the hair while the third blade beats the crap out of it. then the fourth blade psychologically abuses the hair, thus weakening the hair's spirit before the fifth blade chops it off and the sixth, or so-called 'dahmer' blade, has sex with the now-dead hair.' there ya go. now i just hope i die before they work their way up to an actual 7-blade razor. then the task of coming up with the 8-blade parody will be someone else's problem

REALLY, BO...OF ALL THE CHEAP MOTIVATIONAL STUNTS...YOU FUCKING PRICK!



Shitbelcher will be cremated Saturday afternoon...ALONG WITH HIS TEAM!!!

COMING DISTRACTIONS:

* This year's Halloween pics

* New feature: Add A Caption

* New feature: lowercase thots

Stay tuned!

[2010 P.S.: Top this, Tiger Woods!]

ANOTHER INTERESTING FRIDAY THE 13TH FOR THE OL' DUCK

Earlier this afternoon, I went into a closet (see footnote 1), dropped a deuce (2), got lei'd (3), then came out of the closet (4), went upstairs and played Twister with a putter handle (5), breezed through a corn hole (6) and, last but not least, made a black pussy screech (7).

That, folks, is one well-rounded round of miniature golf in the workplace.

Footnotes:
(1)--My place of work had its 2nd annual mini-golf tournament. One of the holes I played was set up in a supply closet.
(2)--I finished the hole in 2 shots, the best possible score on that hole.
(3)--The theme of the hole was "Snakes On A Plane", which must tie in with Hawaii somehow. Thus when I finished they gave me a lei. A purple one, in fact. Start wearing purple!
(4)--See (1).
(5)--Another hole I played incorporated the game Twister. I had to spin to determine where I had to grip the putter while I played the hole. I ended up holding it sort of like a hockey stick.
(6)--The last hole I played had a corn theme, including cornstalks along the walls, feed corn and popcorn traps, etc. Naturally I dubbed it the "corn hole".
(7)--After I finished I walked past a hole with a Halloween theme which included a motion-sensing black cat doll which would screech when someone walked by.

So there. Get your minds out of the gutter, people.

BAND THAT EVERYBODY SHOULD CHECK OUT IMMEDIATELY:

The Drive By Truckers, the vastly-superior evolutionary by-product of a forced cross-breeding of Lynyrd Skynyrd and Molly Hatchet at the hands of Neil Young brandishing a .38 Special, and born in the backseat of ZZ Top's Eliminator.

Sorry all, haven't had anything to post for a couple of weeks. But I must post my condolences to my friend Noel and his family for the loss of his mother yesterday morning. My thoughts are with you, pal.

It's like rai-ai-ain
On your wedding day
It's the Croc Hunter
Getting killed by a 'ray...

"DARMOK AND JALAD AT TANAGRA"

DUCKSOUP AND NOELOMITE AT MUTZ--"BOULEVARD OF BROKEN SONGS" (a mashup of Green Day, Oasis, Travis, Aerosmith, and of course Gogol Bordello)


Mind you, the lighting is crap (I can't even see most of it myself because my computer sucks) and it was shot on a cell phone so the sound is also subpar. But even taking that into consideration, I think I sound like crap. (I'm my own worst critic.) Hopefully it looks and sounds better to the rest of you.

TOP TEN HEADLINES IN THE BUSH ADMINISTRATION-APPROVED NEW NEW YORK TIMES

10. IRAQ MISSION DEEMED "COOL" BY JOINT CHIEFS: PENTAGON OFFICIAL

9. CHENEY SMILES BRIEFLY AT NEWS CONFERENCE; SHOWS WARM HUMAN QUALITIES MISSED BY MEDIA

8. RUMSFELD SPORTS NEW TIE AT BRIEFING; FIELDS COMPLIMENTS FROM REPORTERS AND TV CREWS

7. FIRST AMENDMENT ROLLBACK FINE WITH MOST VOTERS NOT DECLARED AS "ENEMIES OF THE PEOPLE"

6. PRESIDENT BUSH MAKES FUNNY REMARK IN OVAL OFFICE; DRAWS GENUINE LAUGHTER FROM STAFF

5. BUSH CLEARS LARGE AMOUNTS OF BRUSH FROM RANCH; OPERATION DEEMED "COMPLETE SUCCESS"

4. PRESIDENT'S SOCK DRAWER "NEAT AND ORGANIZED" SAYS TONY SNOW

3. SECRETARY OF STATE RICE WILL TRAVEL TO CALIFORNIA TO ASSIST MILITARY TAKEOVER OF SACRAMENTO

2. CIVIL LIBERTIES REPEAL DRAWS WIDE SUPPORT AMONGST REMAINING MEMBERS OF CONGRESS

And the number one headline in the Bush administration-approved New New York Times...

1. PRESIDENTIAL DOGS HAVE GOOD DAY IN ROMP ON SOUTH LAWN

Shine on you crazy diamond. Wish you were here.

***

Pink Floyd's Barrett dies aged 60
[BBC News]

Syd Barrett, one of the original members of legendary rock group Pink Floyd, has died at the age of 60 from complications arising from diabetes.

The guitarist was the band's first creative force and an influential songwriter, penning their early hits. He joined Pink Floyd in 1965 but left three years later after one album. He went on to live as a recluse, with his mental deterioration blamed on drugs.

"He died very peacefully a couple of days ago," the band's spokeswoman said. "There will be a private family funeral."

A statement from Pink Floyd said: "The band are naturally very upset and sad to learn of Syd Barrett's death. Syd was the guiding light of the early band line-up and leaves a legacy which continues to inspire."

David Bowie described Barrett as a "major inspiration", saying: "I can't tell you how sad I feel. The few times I saw him perform in London at UFO and the Marquee clubs during the '60s will forever be etched in my mind. He was so charismatic and such a startlingly original songwriter. Also, along with Anthony Newley, he was the first guy I'd heard to sing pop or rock with a British accent. His impact on my thinking was enormous. A major regret is that I never got to know him. A diamond indeed."

Born Roger Barrett in Cambridge, he composed songs including See Emily Play and Arnold Layne, both from 1967. He also wrote most of their album The Piper at the Gates of Dawn. But he struggled to cope with fame and drugs. Dave Gilmour was brought in to the band in February 1968 and Barrett left that April, releasing two solo albums soon after. The band's biggest-selling releases, Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall, emerged in the post-Barrett era, with the band selling an estimated 200 million albums worldwide.

Just as Pink Floyd were about to achieve global success, Barrett retreated from public life and returned to Cambridge. Little was known about his whereabouts for 20 years until he was tracked down living with his mother. But his influence remained, with younger fans and artists discovering his music.

Former Blur guitarist Graham Coxon released a statement saying: "Lost him again... for bang on 20 years Syd led me to better places. From my agape 17-year-old first listen to Bike to, just the other day, Jugband Blues. Languished in his noise... dreamt in his night... stared at his eyes for answers..."

Barrett's biographer Tim Willis said the guitarist's music left a lasting legacy. "I don't think we would have the David Bowie we have today if it wasn't for Syd," he told BBC Radio Five Live. Bowie was very much a kind of clone of Syd in the early years. His influence is still going. New bands discover him all the time. There's always a Syd revival going on - if it wasn't the punks, it was REM, and I'm sure that Arnold Layne and Emily Play as pop songs will live forever."

***

The Madcap Laughs Last
Syd Barrett, 1946–2006

by Barry Walters
July 14th, 2006 4:49 PM
[The Village Voice]

Pink Floyd themselves wrote the most fitting epitaph for their former singer and guitarist, Roger "Syd" Barrett, 31 years ago: "Wish You Were Here." Never has a departed musician weighed so heavily on his former bandmates—chunks of post-Syd Floyd classics Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall also bear his influence. No one could've imagined that the Pink Floyd Barrett ruled in the Cambridge band's early days would've become one of the most successful and enduring rock acts of all time. Barrett was arguably the first British pop star who fully refused to fake an obligatory American accent, and though the English public gave their immediate approval to some of the most radical pop records of that radical year 1967, in America those same records flopped.

Barrett's psychedelia was as particularly English as Harry Potter, and similarly magical. A lover of eyeliner and whimsy, the singer spewed some of the era's most savage guitar noise over and around his deceptively childlike lyrics: The BBC-banned first Floyd single "Arnold Layne" dared to celebrate a mischievous cross-dresser who stole his drag from washing lines, while the enchanting follow-up hit, "See Emily Play"—as well as "The Gnome," "Scarecrow," and other tracks from Floyd's first album, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn—similarly mixed innocence and subversion. For Barrett, the retreat from adulthood that psychedelia offered was particularly enticing: It's been speculated that the unexpected passing of his father when the future frontman was only 11 may have not only encouraged Barrett to seek lyrical refuge in the memories of happier days, but in part also inspired the mental illness that fully claimed him. "You were caught in the crossfire of childhood and stardom," Pink Floyd sang of him on "Shine on You Crazy Diamond."

Whether it was emotional fragility, LSD, schizophrenia, seizures induced by the band's trademark strobes, pressures induced by sudden stardom, or a more likely a combination thereof, Barrett, as many biographers have documented, soon lost the plot, and a year into the band's success was replaced by his close friend David Gilmour. Because he retreated from the spotlight so thoroughly so soon after the release of his 1970 solo albums The Madcap Laughs and Barrett, because Pink Floyd so routinely paid him homage in song, and because his small body of work so acutely documents a mind that occupies an alternative reality, Barrett has lived with the kind of legend befitting only the most celebrated of dead rock stars. And though he still lived, unlike kindred beleaguered soul Brian Wilson, he never bounced back: Until his July 7 death at age 60 from diabetes complications, Barrett lived in seclusion at his mother's Cambridge house with the windows boarded up to discourage curious fans.

Syd had many of those. If the first Nuggets collection documents an American generation of garage bands who wanted to be the Rolling Stones, then the second, UK-dominated Nuggets box erects a shrine to Barrett and his wannabes. Just as Gilmour's stadium-filling Pink Floyd inspired the original punks as a negative example, Barrett's example positively shined on the postpunks, and his much quieter but even more uneasy and unpolished solo work spurred subsequent indie followers. Although his own output is slim, his jagged rhythm guitar and detached bray spread like a psychedelic virus onto thousands of records. Barrett enchanted outcast souls much like Arnold Layne snapped up see-through baby-blue ladies' garments in the moonlight. They suit him fine.

***

Wish You Were Here sessions
[Excerpt from Wikipedia]

Syd Barrett had one noted reunion with the members of Pink Floyd, in 1975 during the recording sessions for Wish You Were Here. Barrett attended the Abbey Road session unannounced and watched the band record Shine On You Crazy Diamond — coincidentally, a song about him. At that time, Barrett had gained a lot of weight and had shaved off all of his hair, including his eyebrows, and his ex-bandmates did not at first recognize him (one of the photographs in Nick Mason's book Inside Out: A Personal History of Pink Floyd appears to have been taken that day; it is captioned simply: Syd Barrett, 5th June 1975). Eventually, they realized who he was and Roger Waters was so distressed that he was reduced to tears. A reference to this reunion appears in the film Pink Floyd The Wall (1982), where the character 'Pink,' played by Bob Geldof, shaves off his eyebrows after succumbing to the pressures of life and fame.

In an interview for VH1's Behind The Music, Rick Wright spoke about the session, saying: "One thing that really stands out in my mind, that I'll never forget; I was going in to the Shine On sessions. I went in the studio and I saw this guy sitting at the back of the studio, he was only as far away as you are from me. And I didn't recognize him. I said, 'Who's that guy behind you?' 'That's Syd.' And I just cracked up, I couldn't believe it... he had shaven all his hair off... I mean, his eyebrows, everything... he was jumping up and down brushing his teeth, it was awful. And, uh, I was in, I mean Roger was in tears, I think I was; we were both in tears. It was very shocking... seven years of no contact and then to walk in while we're actually doing that particular track. I don't know – coincidence, karma, fate, who knows? But it was very, very, very powerful." In another interview, Nick Mason has said: "When I think about it, I can still see his eyes, but... it was everything else that was different." In yet another interview, Roger Waters has said: "I had no idea who he was for a very long time."

I HATE STUPIDITY

My apologies to the Noelomite for ripping this from his blog, but it's just too utterly fucking retarded not to share with as many people as possible.



Could someone please explain to me how a badly-photoshopped picture of the JAPANESE flag planted on a MOON OF SATURN (Dione) with the shadow pointing THE WRONG FUCKING WAY ties in with a news story about CHINA planning to land on EARTH'S MOON (on which flags have been proven to cast shadows which point AWAY from the sun)?!

Nice going, AP/CBS. My lack of god. No wonder Dan Rather quit.

IN HONOR OF THE 2006 WORLD CUP HOST COUNTRY...



V-Dub! German engineering in da house! Ya!

UPDATE TO PREVIOUS POST

Based on their uniforms, I am changing the Croatian Ists to the CROATIA CAT CHOW (which works better than the Croatia Ralston-Purinas).

GOOOOOOOOLLL!



It's World Cup time again, which means it's also time to come up with Chris Berman-type nicknames for all the participating teams, with a generous helping of Duck Pond-type comic sensibility stirred in, natch.

Some of them took a bit of massaging, some were locked-in perfect from the get-go, and some we're still not 100% happy with, but for now we're going with our best efforts so far. In alphabetical order, let's run through them, shall we?

ANGOLA SWEATERS
A tough one, we went with the angora sweater reference. Perhaps a nod to Meryn Cadell?
ARGENTINA TURNERS
My fave team for years, I like to think there's another half-obvious one I'm missing, but the Tina Turner ref is just goofy enough to work.
AUSTRALIAN CRAWL
Swimming ref. This one may yet be changed. Other possibles: Aussie Rulers (ref to Footy), Aussie Osbournes, Australia Crocodile Hunters (Crikey!).
BRAZIL NUTS
Have yet to hear a better one.
COSTA RICA SUAVES
Gerardo ref. Not the best name, but passable.
CROATIAN ISTS
Get it? Instead of creationists? Yeah, I know, it sucks. Can you do better?
CZECH BOUNCERS
Czech, please. Czechmate!
ECUADOR KNOBS
As some of you know, I have a history of bad relations with Ecuador. As in, I blew the whole country clear off the map back in 1994. (The details of which I will someday get around to posting online along with all the other highlights from the late, great AG! The Geak Newsletter.) I almost went with the Ecuador Lorenas, but I just now changed it to the obvi Norbert ref. "Wayne Newton's a doorknob!"
ENGLISH MUFFINS
Sort of counters the whole hooliganism thing. Plus it's the most obvi.
FRENCH CONNECTION
Beat out the more obvi French Toast and French Fries, and the less obvi French Mistake (Blazing Saddles ref).
GERMAN SHEPHERDS
Most obvi. Runners-up: German Rye and German Chocolate Cake, but I'm doing my best to avoid too many food refs.
GHANA RRHEA
Has to be the edgiest. Co-worker Jane says to me "I don't get this one. Ghana Rrhea?" At which point she got it. "See?" I said. "Once you say it out loud you get it." Jane: "I hope not!"
IRAN FLOCK OF SEAGULLS
Hey, if you don't know your 80's music, I can't help you.
ITALIAN RESTAURANT
Lots of ways I could have gone here. Seasoning, Dressing, Sausage (though I could have also gone with the Polish Sausage, but I didn't want to have 2 teams with the same nickname like the CFL used to). In the end I went with what is not so much a food ref as a music ref. Call it an "ode to Billy Joel."
IVORY COAST BAR SOAPS
The IC is currently undergoing a civil war, and I imagine it's over which brand of bar soap to name it after! Ivory Coast: the only country named after 2 brands of bar soap. Hence the nickname. Enjoy!
JAPANSY DIVISION
A nod to my pals PD. But I almost went with the Violence Jack Offs, a ref to a classic Engrish.com pic of a clothing store of the same name.
MEXICAN JUMPING BEANS
Lots of possibles here. Mexican Standoff (would only work if they tied every game), Mexican Pizzas, Mexican Hat Dancers. But none could beat the JBs.
DUTCH ELM DISEASE
The Netherlands is always a fave of mine. I almost went with the way-too-obvi Dutch Boys (doubles as a "Shield" ref), or maybe the Dutch Treat. But co-worker Jane suggested the most wonderfully ridiculous nickname in the whole slate!
PARAGUAY MIDDLE
Eric Idle once hosted SNL back in the 70s, and played one of the Killer Bees (a la Belushi) in a sketch. When called out for his English accent, he tried to pass himself off as South American. "So you're from South America? What country?" "Paraguay." "Where in Paraguay?" "The middle." It sticks in my head to this day, hence the name.
POLISH JOKES
What else? And judging by the fact that they've been knocked out after just 2 games, they obvi ARE a joke.
PORTUGUESE CATHOUSE
At the mo I can't place where I heard the above phrase, but it beats any lame play on the words 'port' or 'porch'. The official team nickname translates to "the Shields". I like that.
SAUDI ARABIA HIJACKERS
A bit more specific than my first choice, the Terrorists. And Knights is too obvi.
SERBIAN BASTARDS
Kids In The Hall ref. "Get out of my cab, you Serbian bastard!" Officially it's Serbia & Montenegro...S&M! So could have gone with the Sado-Masochists. Of course, being in the same group as Argentina and Netherlands, they better be masochists!
SOUTH KOREA MASHERS
M*A*S*H ref. Duh. Kinda lame, but it's the best any of us can think of. Again, can you do better??
SPANISH INQUIZITION
Nobody expects the Spanish Inquizition! Note the Z, a ref to the late, great Game Show Network staple spelled the same way. Runners-up: Spanish Fly, Spanish Peanuts, and Spanish Harlem (Globetrotters?).
SWEDISH MEATBALLS
Probably the most obvi of all. Runners-up: Swedish Massage, Swedish Erotica.
SWISS ARMY KNIVES
Was gonna go with the Swiss Cheese, but the Noelomite suggested better, and helped me avoid yet another food ref. Other runner-up: Swiss Bank Accounts.
TOGO PARTY
Best I could come up with was Sandwiches (after the Togo's chain) or Togo Sticks. The Stever came to the rescue with an Aminal House ref. Togo! Togo! Togo!
TRINIDAD TOBOGGANS
One of the ESPN announcers called the people of T&T that, so I went with it. Kinda lame though. Third time's a charm: Can you do better???
TUNISIAN CAMEL JOCKEYS
Now, now. It's not like that. As much as I hate to admit it, it's actually a Happy Days ref. I'm so ashamed.
UKRAINIAN GYPSY PUNKS
As if I'd go with any other name! Unfortunately, they don't wear purple. :(

And finally...last, and least...the U.S.A. (Usually Soccer Also-rans). Thanks to Green Day for the most accurate nickname of all:
AMERICAN IDIOTS

JOKE DU JOUR

Goliath threw "Scissors".

DO YOU KNOW THE PROZAC-SPRINKLED ELECTRIC MUFFIN MAN?

So a couple of weeks ago, on my way to work, I see this photo in the paper...



It ran with an article about the Everyone's Art Car Parade in Houston, and not only does it have to be the funniest pic of the year, the article included the phrase "Prozac-sprinkled Electric Muffins", which struck me as potentially one hell of a great band name! (You'll notice the second muffin from the left is, in fact, Prozac-sprinkled. I'm partial to the one with the Hostess Cupcake squiggle myself.)

I TMed it around to my friends, and the first response was from karaoke buddy Liz, who said she hoped they were bran. So I obliged and changed it to the Prozac-sprinkled Electric Bran Muffins.

When I got to work I related all this to my co-worker Jane, who added "Fat-free" to the mix. Then I related all this to my co-worker Lynne, who suggested "Organic". Then I decided to add a bit more insanity to the end of it, and before we knew it, we had the Prozac-sprinkled Electric Fat-free Organic Bran Muffins Orbiting The Third Moon Of Neptune.

We then decided to see just how much longer we could make this already ridiculously-long band name. Another co-worker suggested making the initials of the band spell out something, which is a nice idea, but at this point I decided I'd be happy just to have it spell out something just barely pronounceable! So we made a conscious effort to work in a few more vowels. (I once had the opposite dilemma with a previous favorite band name, Robots In Orbit Eating Oatmeal With Onions In It, which of course abbreviates to RIOEOWOII, which is a heckuva vowel movement!)

I typed it out on my Notepad, one word per line so I could figure out what the initials were spelling as we went, and I decided that since I could fit up to 39 lines on one page, once we got to 39 words we'd call it a wrap.

So after a bit more collective brainstorming, we ended up with the following insanely-long band name:

Prozac-sprinkled Electric Screaming Yellow Fat-free Organic Bran Muffins Orbiting The Third Moon Of Neptune In A Rented Dodge Omni With A Trailer Hitch Dragging Orange Sweatpants Filled With A Load Of Tapioca Pudding If You Know What I Mean.

Or PESYFOBMOTTMONIARDOWATHDOSFWALOTPIYKWIM, for short, as the band would be referred to by their most loyal fans who would follow them around to every show a la the Grateful Dead or Phish...Muffinheads, we would call them.

And the above pic would of course look great on the album cover, except that the band's name would almost completely obscure it.

PS: About a week later I spotted a news item about two Dallas high schoolers who were charged with giving school employees marijuana-spiked bran muffins in a senior prank. So my advice to those living in or visiting Texas...BEWARE OF THE MUFFINS! (Unless you like them Prozac-sprinkled or marijuana-spiked!)

PPS: I know what you're thinking, and yes, I would love to work "Marijuana-spiked" into the band name, but to do that I'd have to reduce the font size to fit all the lines on one page, and that would just be silly.

LETTERS FROM HENRY
(from The Henry Rollins Show, June 3, 2006)

Dear FCC,

Your actions of late are a bit confusing to me, so I'm writing to you to hopefully get a reply to clear up some questions I have.

Remember a few years ago when you fined Howard Stern for that broadcast where he talked about a personal hygiene product called Sphincterine? How did you come to the amount of $495,000 for the fine? Was it by the letter? Was it by the syllable? Did you just make up a figure?

Do you think that a person has the ability to turn the channel when they find the material broadcast to be objectionable? Or does the programming actually have the ability to paralyze the person and render them powerless to exercise any personal choice or responsibility?

When you removed Bubba The Love Sponge from terrestrial radio, did you do that to protect me from Bubba? Remember when Bubba used to have Redneck Monday, where he used to bait rednecks and get them all mad that they were racist idiots? Or Lesbian Tuesday, when women would call in and rub the phone on their crotches? I don't know about you, but these broadcasts never made me want to build a meth lab or blow up a building or even bring a gun to school.

Sexual content seems to upset you, but violent content seems to be all right. That's kind of like the Bible. Not a lot of sex, whole lot of violence.

I wonder what you think about the satellite networks for television and radio. It's where Howard and Bubba are now, and I know from listening and being on their shows they say whatever the fuck they want. Is it just less work for you, or are you mad that so many of us have left home and are thinking for ourselves now?

From what I can tell, it's the truth you find indecent. All the news outlets are owned by only a few massive corporations. That's a good idea? Or is it just good capitalism? That was on your watch. News has gone from a content-based to a ratings-based racket with good time information for a country that has no money and a President on the warpath. That was also on your watch. And I know you may find the following sentiment indecent, but that's fucked up.

If you can pull yourself away from "American Idol" for a moment to get back to me on this, I would really appreciate it.

--Henry

IT WAS JUST A MATTER OF TIME

"MONEY, SO THEY SAY, IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL TODAY"--PINK FLOYD

It now costs 1.23 cents to make a one-cent coin. All the more reason to get rid of the damn things! The one-cent coin is a worthless, pointless hassle, and causes nothing but problems! (And I should know...I used to date one!)


Money talks (to coin a phrase)

THAT 70'S PROBE

So here it is, the year 2006, and Voyagers I and II, launched over 30 years ago and now making their way into interstellar space, are still carrying "The Sounds Of Earth"...on phonograph records. How charmingly retro. (At least it wasn't 8-track tape!)

I wonder...did they think to put an iPod on the New Horizons probe to Pluto?

LETTERS FROM HENRY
(from The Henry Rollins Show, IFC, May 6, 2006)

Dear Pat Robertson,

I would like to compliment you on having the psycho vision to stand up and say the things that some people--a lot of people, people who read, travel, and think for themselves--would find repellant, illogical, and just plain wrong. You don't let overwhelming amounts of facts get in the way of your conclusions, and that is refreshingly psychotic!

Like that time you said the September 11th attacks were carried out by pagans, abortionists, feminists, gays, lesbians, the ACLU, and the People for the American Way. And here I was, all this time thinking it was Al-Qaeda operatives from the Middle East. Boy was I taken for a ride! And to think Dick Cheney's daughter and Ellen Degeneres may have been in on this has really made me have to stop and re-think the whole thing! And I've come to the conclusion that you are a gold medalist psycho!

George W. Bush said we were fighting a global war on terror and sent thousands of soldiers into Iraq to take care of business. But if I'm understanding you correctly, we should re-direct the troops to invade America, or at least stop those damn queer liberal bastards from taking flying lessons or getting married. I hear ya, I think.

Oh yeah, that time when you said feminism was a socialist, anti-family political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians? Now, Pat, you know you're starting to sound a little like...or a lot like...the Taliban. Are you trying to enact some kind of blue-collar comedy tour Sharia for idiots?

Remember a few months ago when you said someone should put a hit on Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez? Your psychotic bullshit is only outweighed by your naivete. You sure put the "mental" into fundamentalism that day!

Pat, you're part koala bear, part Koresh, and every bit the psychotic con man for the new American century. And make no mistake: a long time ago, your God looked at you, said, "What a fuckin' psycho!!" and abandoned you. But don't despair. You still have me.

--Henry

LETTERS FROM HENRY
[from The Henry Rollins Show, IFC, April 15, 2006]

Dear Ann Coulter,

You used to be fun, at least funny, at least gently and amusingly insane. But girlfriend, you've changed.

The 1,000-yard stare you've acquired in the last couple of years says lonely nights, too much wine, and insecurity about the future of your career. Where to now, my sweet fascist? Another one of your silly books? More hilarious appearances on "Hannity & Colmes"? Bill Maher has to be tired of you by now.

You're anything but stupid, and by now you must see the writing on the wall. You'll never have a real place with the Beltway in-crowd, as they see you as a Northeastern hickoid pro-wrestler type with a degree from Cornell. I mean, really, Ann, where can it go from here?

Ann, I think I have the answer. In fact, I know I do. I want to hire you, Ann. I want you to come and work for me. I want you to be my Ann Friday; my housekeeper; beekeeper; floor, chimney, and mine sweeper; my window-washing, grocery-buying, dinner-cooking, obsequious, submissive concubine-domestic.

You will laugh at my jokes, celebrate my victories, and lament my failures. You will praise my friends, and vow great harm on all who oppose me. You will treat me like a god, a guru, a mentor, and the best night in the sack you've ever had. You will carry my bags, wash my cars, walk my dogs, and turn your savings over to me. You will massage Susan Sarandon's aching shoulders, whip up vegan delights for "Hanoi Jane" Fonda, and loofah Barbra Streisand's stretch marks. But most of all, Ann, you will just shut the fuck up.

I can offer you a life of obedient servitude on my compound. In your time with me, you will learn much. You will learn that America is made up of people from all races, walks of life, and sexual orientation, and that it's all okay. You will learn to be patient and kind. You will learn the meaning of the word 'respect' and memorize every line of "Caddyshack". You will listen to the Ramones, Black Sabbath, and the Brides of Funkenstein. You're a figure of fun, and I plan on having fun with that figure. You will learn who your daddy is, that's for sure. But mostly, Ann, you will just shut the fuck up.

Come on, Ann, you fucking psycho. Let's do this.

--Henry

LETTERS FROM HENRY
[from The Henry Rollins Show, IFC, April 1, 2006]

Dear Laura Bush,

I'm writing you today out of a genuine concern for you and your wonderful daughters.

First of all, please allow me to compliment you on standing by your man. I know how unbelievably trying, embarrassing, and infuriating it must be for you at times. I know you're college-educated, literate--a librarian, no less--and that conversations with George W. Bush may be reminiscent of the time you waved and said hello to the gorillas at the San Diego Zoo a few years ago, or trying to establish a meaningful dialogue with a bowl of wax fruit.

Your patience is only matched by the perpetual frozen expression of fear, heartbreak, and startled surprise that cries out, "I self-medicate. I'm on half a bottle of Stoli and a fistful of Zoloft before noon." I see you at his side as he visits Louisiana and dodges questions about FEMA and the lack of aid going to people in that region. You are with him every step of the way as his approval ratings continually sink.

Your wonderful monologue at the Correspondents Dinner a few months ago had me in stitches! They should rename you the First Lady of Comedy! You know, you and I have a lot in common. Neither of us feel any safer since the invasion of Iraq, and both of us read. We both have an attention span that lasts longer than half an hour, and we both have a sense of humor.

That being said, I'm going to go out on a limb here and offer my friendship to you. I have to think we could have a better time than what you're used to. I mean, come on. How many hours of a drunken Lynne Cheney reading aloud from "Mein Kampf" can anyone stand?

If you do want to hang out, think of all the fun we could have. WE could go to one of the many American seaports and watch weapons of mass destruction get waved in by Dubai nationals. We could light bags of dog doo on fire at Hillary Clinton's doorstep, ring the buzzer and run like hell!

All I'm saying, Ms. Bush, is I know you're suffering your husband as much as I am, and we might as well get our kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames. What do you say?

--Henry

AN EDITORIAL

Myspace.com sucks.

Myspace.com sucks festering rat vomit.

Myspace.com sucks festering rat vomit out of the mouthhole of one my ex-girlfriend's five abortions stuck to the bottom of a rancid BFI dumpster.

GOGOL BORDELLO IN DETROIT...PARTY!!!

Monday, April 10, 2006, 3:20am--Just returned home from seeing Gogol Bordello at the Magic Stick in Detroit. My ears are still ringing, and I'm taking in liquids like a sponge. Hard to believe my shirt is dry again after all the sweating.

Right off the bat, I must give props to my newly-knighted karaoke buddy, Sir ProZak, for getting me there and back. We had a multi-goal mission, and we accomplished it and then some. I got the EP I didn't yet have, "East Infection", plus both t-shirts I wanted, which I will soon take to a tailor to have converted to 4XLT size.

Opening act was Zox. Pretty good. The violinist, Spencer, was amazing. Sort of like Eddie Van Halen with a Stradivarius. As for the second act, Dub Trio, they were all over the place. Self-indulgent and overly-long jam session.

Now, when I saw Pansy Division a couple of years ago, it was a good-size crowd but I was still able to stand in one spot more or less and rock out and enjoy the show. But when Gogol Bordello took the stage, the mosh pit formed in about one second, and yours truly was caught in the middle. Hey, I'm 41, I didn't start going to concerts until a couple of years ago, and frankly this was my first time in the meat grinder. I've never been squashed in a crowd like that before, all lurching in unison, and hopefully never will again. By the end of the show, I was feeling my advanced age. Best to leave this shit to the kids. But Gogol B was kicking ass, so I went with the flow as long as I could stand.

Lost track of Zak after a couple of songs. Accidentally tit-groped some poor squashed gal in front of me at one point, but I was stuck in place, as was my arm, and was getting cooked alive by all the body heat. About halfway through, I finally managed to get some leverage, and slowly pushed my way to the side, all the while staying within 5-6 feet of the stage. My weight actually did me some good for once. Stayed right up front at stage right the rest of the show, and enjoyed it as much as I could despite my exhaustion.

Once the encore began, I almost snagged a copy of the set list, which has become a personal tradition. But the bitch in front of me snatched it away from me. Thankfully the violinist, Sergey, was kind enough to snag another one for me. Serg, you are a sweetheart!

After the show, I was able to get all 9 members of the band to sign my Gypsy Punks CD case. And I can honestly say every one of them was approachable and personable, which is good because Pansy Div and Dirty Power both spoiled me in that regard.

And best of all, the band's lead singer/lyricist/visionary, Eugene Hutz, agreed to sit down for an interview with me for the Pond. So after the show, when things had queited down a bit, we sat in the tour bus and I recorded our chat.

It's now 2:24 pm, I woke up a while ago and finished transcribing the interview to the best of my abilities, and you can read the results in my newly-contructed Duck Pond Interview Loft!

WHAT MY MUSIC SAYS ABOUT ME

Ripped this idea from Noel, who ripped it from someone else: "Put your music library on shuffle and answer the questions with songs in the order they come up."

You won't believe how well mine turned out (and of course it helps that I have a really eclectic and f'd-up playlist)...

1. What's my mood like right now?
Torn--Natalie Imbruglia

2. How's tomorrow going to be for me?
Walking On Sunshine--Katrina And The Waves

3. What kind of person am I?
Sober--Tool

4. Am I loved?
Alan Parsons In A Winter Wonderland--Grandaddy

5. How can I achieve my highest potential?
Drinkin' Bone--Tracy Byrd

6. What should I do with my life?
Rush--Big Audio Dynamite II

7. Is everything really going to be alright in the end?
All Things (Just Keep Getting Better)--Widelife

8. What is my best quality?
She's A Rebel--Green Day

9. How does my sex life look?
Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight--Spinal Tap

10. What's the meaning of life?
Start Wearing Purple--Gogol Bordello

11. What do people think of me?
My Cellmate Thinks I'm Sexy--Cledus T. Judd

12. Would I make a good catch?
Are You Lonesome Tonight--Sam Kinison

13. How crazy am I?
I Wish I Was Queer So I Could Get Chicks--Bloodhound Gang

14. Will I have a good life in general?
If I Ever Leave This World Alive--Flogging Molly

15. Can (insert YOUR name here) ever really love me?
Living In Hope--The Rutles

16. Can me and (insert YOUR name here) ever be more than friends?
Writing On The Wall--Lowen And Navarro

17. What's going to happen to me this week?
Eat, Bite, Fuck, Suck--John Valby

18. Where will I be a year from now?
Downtown--Neil Young & Pearl Jam

19. What is my biggest wish?
I Need A Jew--Family Guy

20. What is the love of my life doing at this very moment?
What Would Mountain Do--Dirty Power

21. How will I die?
Unhappy Birthday--The Smiths

22. What will happen after I die?
Across The Universe--Rufus Wainwright

23. How do my friends feel about me?
It's The End Of The World As We Know It--R.E.M.

2006 ALF CUP CHAMPIONS!



Congrats to the Griffins, ALF Cup champs at last! The evil monkey is off their backs!

THE DREAM MATCHUP IS HERE AT LAST!

We've waited years to see this ALF Cup final. We've been on pace for it all season. And now, finally, this Sunday, it's the ultimate battle for ALF Cup supremacy...

1-THE SHIELD


"I'm a different kind of cop"

VS.

2-FAMILY GUY


"For every sprinkle I find, I shall kill you"

...FOR ALL THE MARBLES!

Will Vic and the Strike Team take home their 3rd title in 4 years? Or will the Griffins finally shed the label of 'best show to never win the ALF Cup'?

This promises to be the greatest final in the 20-year history of ALF Cup competition. Stay tuned for the results!

IT'S OCHO DE MARZO!



And yes, I am wearing the exact same outfit as ALF!

I'm sick and tired of having birthdays, and keeping count of how many orbits I've made around the sun. Fuck that noise. Meaningless!

My friend Kay was born May 5th...I figure if she can have Cinco De Mayo, I can have OCHO DE MARZO! It just sounds so much more festive! OLE!

No more birthday cake or pie (though, I like pie), from now on it's El Tipico tacos! Pointy party hats? Fuck 'em...slap a sombrero on my melon! Never mind singing "Happy Birthday" to me, fire up the mariachi band! IYIYIYIYIYIYIYIY!!!

ABYSSINIA, LUCKY

Lt. Col. Lucky The Cat's plane was shot down over the sea of Japan. It spun in...there were no survivors.

Lucky The Cat
19??-2006


(Okay, you got me. That's not a picture of Lucky. I have no pic of him to post, so I had to Google a suitable lookalike. What can I say? His luck ran out.)

***

P.S.: I thot I'd post this classic article from the very first issue of AG! The Geak Newsletter, January 1994:

ALVA PRIBE ADOPTS CAT!!!
Entire family shocked, stunned
by Douglas J. Pribe, your humble ass. editor

"I'm shocked," said Lynne Pribe.

"I'm stunned," said Stewart Pribe.

"I'm shocked, and stunned," said Cindy O'Neal (nee Pribe).

"I'm tired and cranky," said Louis Pribe.

"I always said she should get a pet," said Mark Pribe.

This reporter was shocked (yes, and stunned) to learn that Alva Pribe, long opposed to having any furry animals living in her house (including yours truly), has indeed opened her home (but not quite her heart) to a cat which was seen being hit by a truck in front of the house by her son Mark (I mean Mark saw the cat being hit by a truck, I didn't mean that Mark hit the cat with a truck, or that a truck saw Mark hitting the cat, nor do I mean that Mark is the son of the cat [or of the truck], because the cat isn't a 'her, it's a 'his', anyway, I mean that he is the son of Alva Pribe whom I mentioned earlier in this sentence [Mark, that is, not the cat {and not the truck, either...I don't even know the gender of the truck anyway ((and I'm not about to find out either because there's no way I could lift the truck and look underneath it to see which set of genitals it has [[unless I owned a jack {{which I don't (((heck, I don't even own a car [[[heck, I don't even have a license yet {{{a driver's license, that is}}} ]]] ))) }} ]] )) } ] ).

(Do you think maybe I should join Parentheses Anonymous?)

Anyhoo, he (Mark, that is [don't get me started again]) wanted to keep the cat (I must say he's very well-behaved and trained [the cat, I mean, not Mark, shit, no!]), so he (Mark) took him (the cat) to the vet and had his (the cat's, not Mark's [and not the vet's, either {shit, I'm getting dizzy}]) injuries tended to, but he (Mark) can't keep him (the cat) on the naval base so he (Mark) had to leave him (the cat) here with us (me and Mom [or Mom and me {or maybe Mom and I ((or maybe even I and Mom [[oh my lack of god, I think I'm going to pass out]] )) } ] ).


Artist's rendering of Alva Pribe's new cat

Anyway, I (me) named him (the cat) Lucky, after the cat on ALF, of course (on ALF's show, that is), plus the fact that he (Lucky [our Lucky, that is, not the Lucky on ALF {on ALF's show, that is}]) is lucky (the word 'lucky', not the name 'Lucky' [though that would be right also]) to be alive (not dead, that is [living, I mean {you know, like, breathing and stuff}]). I have to go lie down now. Whoa...wha...ohh...

THIS JUST IN: MIKE FERNER TO STAR IN REMAKE OF "AMERICAN GRAFFITI"

I'm going to let Mike himself have the last word on the subject, for now.

***

THE HARM OF CIVIL 'OBEDIENCE'
by Mike Ferner
(Article published in the Blade, Saturday, January 21, 2006)

The Blade's Jan. 6 editorial, "Defacing a Reputation," helps us think about the war on Iraq and how citizens should respond.

I appreciate this opportunity to add to that discussion.

First, a point The Blade and others have mentioned - comparing my "Troops Out Now!" message spray-painted on a highway overpass to a high schooler writing "Debbie loves Jordan."

Would Debbie have been stopped by no fewer than four patrol cars, handcuffed, booked into jail on felony charges, and held on $3,000 bond (with no 10 percent and out), and appear before a judge the next day in shackles?

ODOT painted over my anti-war sign within 48 hours. Debbie's testimonial has been up there for about 10 years the last I looked.

Don't get me wrong. If someone is a dangerous felon, they should be treated as one. I just hope Debbie and Jordan aren't given the same treatment.

The Blade was gracious enough to list me in the company of some civilly disobedient heroes, but suggested my behavior fell woefully short of those individuals' honorable standards.

Spray paints weren't invented in Gandhi's day, but might he at some point have scrawled "Brits Out Now" with whitewash and a brush?

"Why resort to illegal protest?" people ask.

What about this war troubles me enough to prompt an illegal response?

Images. Images that never leave me.

Images of young soldiers and marines lying in row upon row of hospital beds.

Images of picking shrapnel out of Mike Ramsack's backside … dressing Bob Butikofer's wounds every day and trying not to make him scream … changing colostomy bags on guys hoping they won't defecate out the hole in their guts caused by a gunshot wound to the abdomen … trying to give a brain scan to a young soldier missing his entire left temporal lobe…

Images of eating in the chow hall as dozens of patients in wheelchairs, on crutches, missing arms and legs and eyes line up for dinner …

Images of a young man sitting silent and broken in a corner of the psych ward.

And there are other, more recent images from my trips to Iraq that I cannot forget.

Images of the kids I met on the streets of Baghdad, and the ones in Abu Siffa who shared their chicken and rice dinner with an American journalist two days after a cruise missile blew their orange grove to bits.

Images of Fatima in the Sa'adoon Street copy shop who told me how beautiful she thought her country was and how she hoped there would be no war.

Images of the young U.S. Army sergeant from West Virginia I accompanied on patrol one night near Balad, who answered my question, "why are you in Iraq?" with a tired shrug saying, "I really don't know." And his partner, just as bone tired, who answered simply, "oil."

I see these images every day. And I know that the young men in that Navy hospital 35 years ago, just like the ones I met last year in Iraq, are getting killed and maimed for a preposterous lie.

As my blood boils I tell my government to "BRING THEM HOME NOW!" by writing letters, signing petitions, speaking, and yes, painting highway overpasses.

Our government is not only causing great suffering by this war, it is also violating dozens of international and domestic laws.

See the Veterans For Peace "Case for Impeachment" for a partial list at www.veteransforpeace.org.

As American citizens we are complicit in these crimes and suffering.

That is why historian Howard Zinn's words make more sense to me each day this war continues:

"Civil disobedience is not our problem. Our problem is civil obedience. Our problem is that people all over the world have obeyed the dictates of the leaders of their government and have gone to war, and millions have been killed because of this obedience ... Our problem is that people are obedient all over the world in the face of poverty and starvation and stupidity, and war, and cruelty. Our problem is that people are obedient while the jails are full of petty thieves, and all the while the grand thieves are running the country. That's our problem."

The most important mistake I made on New Year's Day was not that I painted "Troops Out Now" on overpasses. It was choosing a form of civil disobedience not many people are comfortable adopting.

If you believe we must end this war, what kind of civil disobedience would you choose?

Refuse to pay part of your taxes this April? Sit in at a congressional office? Organize a strike?

Or will we be content to speak quietly, watching the petty criminals go to jail while the grand criminals continue the slaughter in our name?

***

Mike Ferner is a former Toledo City Councilman. He is a member of Veterans For Peace.

HOW FITTING...

The New Horizons probe being sent to Pluto is powered by...plutonium.

IN RESPONSE TO NOELOMITE'S BLOG

RE: The quote "When I play with myself, I always win"

Not far off from the best song lyric I ever wrote: "If you can't find someone to play the game with you then go home and play with yourself", which was based on the fact that I used to play MFL games by myself. (No, MFL is not a typo. As a kid I made up the Martian Football League, mostly based on maps of Mars. Lots of history in the MFL...the Phobos-Deimos rivalry was especially intense.)

BTW dude, love the Warshington Monument pic (intentional typo). Surreal.

REBUTTAL

(The following letter was published in the Blade this week by one of my NWOPC comrades. He makes a good point, and I would be remiss not to run it here.)

Put Ferner's 'crime' in perspective

Mike Ferner spray-paints an anti-war message on an overpass, defacing public property. There are vilifications, indignation, shock, and awe. The public order is disturbed. Protest is one thing, but he defaced public property. How sophomoric. How inappropriate!

The Bush Administration pre-emptively attacks the sovereign nation of Iraq based upon selective and equivocal intelligence. Some 160,000 American soldiers are mired in a bloody political and factional quagmire. The liberators have become occupiers.

The United States has gained the enmity of almost a third of the planet.

Almost 2,200 American soldiers have been killed in armed conflict. Depending upon whose figures you use, 30,000 to 100,000 Iraqis have been killed. The conflict has resulted in the destruction of a considerable amount of private and public property.

Placing these crimes on the grand scale of propriety, which one tips the balance?

Which crime defaces public property, which crime defiles human beings? Which crime messes up public property, which crime destroys people's lives? Which crime deserves our attention? Which crime deserves our indignation?

You tell me. You be the judge.

STEVEN R. MILLER

I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel, I focus on the pain, the only thing that's real...

ELITE...SEVEN?

Well actually it's the Elite Eight, but Song Of The Year will take some time to decide. The other 7 have all been awarded. So without further a-doo-doo...

WEBSITE OF THE YEAR
Two-time defending champ dahl.com lost a shot at a 3-peat when the podcasts were shot down in May. Modesty forbids me from picking the Pond again. Rookie sensation Noelomite is off to a good start with Platypus Nerd/Nerdy Platypus, and FGMMA is an absolute treasure chest. But based on its sheer addictiveness and user-friendly interface, this year's champ has to be:
WINNER: Websudoku

MUSIC VIDEO OF THE YEAR
Since TISM's "Everyone Else Has Had More Sex Than Me" was named the 2004 winner, we go with those good ol' Ukrainian gypsy punks:
WINNER: "Start Wearing Purple"--Gogol Bordello

THE TRIO AWARD (COMMERCIAL OF THE YEAR)
The competition was kind of light. Only one ad really stood out, one that could easily be shown as a PSA in every junior high, high school, college, etc.:
WINNER: Zazoo Condoms--"I Want Those Sweeties!"

THE CARL SAGAN AWARD (MOVIE OF THE YEAR)
Star Wars Ep 3 almost achieved the impossible: making the first two eps worth suffering through. Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy deserved a bigger budget. Napoleon Dynamite (new to me) was, if nothing else, highly quotable. And the joyously offensive The Aristocrats had a lock on this award until the last week of the year. The movie that stole it away made me do something I never do: as soon as it was over I bought another ticket and saw it again immediately. Fuck the elitist critics who knock it for being a filmed version of the Broadway version. Many of us out here in the 'flyover states' don't have the time or the means to go see it on Broadway. Thank you, Mel Brooks, for allowing me to see it for $6.50 a pop plus bus fare:
WINNER: The Producers
(PS: My only minor quibble is that the L.S.D. character, originally played by Dick Shawn, was omitted. But then, Dick Shawn was inimitable, so that's understandable.)

CATCH PHRASE OF THE YEAR
The aforementioned Napoleon Dynamite had several worthy candidates, the Noelomite gave us "Rock out with your cock out!", and Mythbusters made me realize that, when you think about it, the seemingly benign phrase "ping-pong balls" is inherently funny. In any language. Case in point: "Las bolas del ping-pong!" But for all-out catchiness, it's hard to deny a 2nd win for the gypsy punks:
WINNER: "Start Wearing Purple"--Gogol Bordello

ALBUM OF THE YEAR
Plenty of honorable mentions: "American Idiot"--Green Day, "The Complete Conception"--The Conception Corporation, "Multi Kontra Culti vs. Irony"--Gogol Bordello, "Voila Intruder"--Gogol Bordello, "Want Two"--Rufus Wainwright, "X&Y"--Coldplay. But one look up top and this one's a dead giveaway. Taking the place of "Complete Madness", which stood as my all-time favorite album for over two decades:
WINNER: "Gypsy Punks"--Gogol Bordello

GEAK ROOKIE OF THE YEAR
Ah, the ever-prestigious GROTY award. Mythbusters leads the TV rookies, Websudoku will not release me from its vise-like grip, TISM has some of the best song titles since Pop Will Eat Itself (i.e. "I Might Be A Cunt But I'm Not A Fucking Cunt", "If You're Ugly, Forget It", "I'm On The Drug That Killed River Phoenix", and of course "Everyone Else Has Had More Sex Than Me"), and as fabulous babes go, Mo'Nique's curves make the inane "The Parkers" watchable. But down the stretch, this was clearly a two-horse race right down to the wire. And in the end, I had no choice but to declare that the first-ever deadlock in Elite 8 history...would go into OT and ultimately be broken in early April of 2006, when one team was set to rock Detroit, while the other team reacted to a harmless joke with a lot of bad 'tude:
WINNER: Gogol Bordello

The SOTY will take a while. Of the 128 SOTY entries, an unbelievable 37 are by Gogol Bordello, giving them a real shot at taking home 5 of the Elite 8, breaking the record of 4 by Taco The Wonder Dog in 2001.

FROM THE DESK OF DUCKSOUP


Memo to Mo Clarett: Well, okay, at least it wasn't a Bronco. But then again, neither are you! (Ouch! Look out! Kitty has claws!)

Memo to all Pond readers: So, where I work we have a "Fun Friday" activity the 2nd Friday of every month. This month's idea was mine: I am having everyone bring in a baby/childhood/younger pic of themselves so we can all try to identify them. One co-worker submitted something like this:

A bit too young, I'm thinking.

Memo to Pat Robertson: JUST SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH ALREADY.

I COULDN'T MAKE THIS SHIT UP

Maurice Clarett's getaway vehicle: A Ford Escape.