V-Dub! German engineering in da house! Ya!
Monday, July 03, 2006
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Thursday, June 15, 2006
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
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
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
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
(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
Thursday, May 11, 2006
"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)
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)
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
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?
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?
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
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
(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
Saturday, April 29, 2006
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
[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
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
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
[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
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Monday, April 10, 2006
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!
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!
Sunday, April 09, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
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!
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!
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
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!!!
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!!!
Saturday, February 25, 2006
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...
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...
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