Monday, May 29, 2006
Mornin' Daddy!
Ode to a Glass of Pilsner Urquell
Unequivical and Bold
Effervescent Liquid Gold
Salve for Tastebud and for Soul
Open up Your Shiny Top
Tiny Bubbles they do Pop
You're the Reason God Made Hops
So Sublime and Bittersweet
Good with Fish or Good with Meat
Sometimes Drink you with Bare-Feet
You're the Pride of Pilzn Czech
Drink you out on my Back Deck
Cash or Credit or with Check
Amber as the Autumn Sun
So sad when the Glass is Done
But in my Fridge, another one!
Monday, May 22, 2006
You May be a Sufferin' Bastard
Q.1 "Nattering Nabobs of Negativism", refers to:
A. a Post-Punk Rock band of the late 80's
B. Democrats, according to Rush Limbaugh
C. a quote from Spiro T. Agnew, former illustrious Vice-President to Tricky Dick Nixon
Q.2 Witchipoo is the Protagonist from which of the following:
A. H.R. Pufinstuf
B. HMS Pinafore
C. Mutiny on the Hms Bounty
Q.3 Which of the following is not, or ever was, member of the Rolling Stones:
A. Keith
B. Ringo
C. Justin
D. Enrice
E. Dick Dastardly
Q.4 Captain Caveman was a spin-off from what beloved TV series:
A. Scooby-Doo
B. All in the Family
C. Dharma and Greg
D. The Electric Company
E. Wacky Racers
Q.5 Your earliest and most painful Red Sox memory is:
A. Johnny Pesky holding the ball
B. Tony Conigliaro's beanballed fractured skull
C. The Big Red Machine '75
D. Bucky F***in' Dent '78
E. Mookie F****in' Wilson '86
F. Aaron F***in' Boone '03
G. 'man, I still can't believe they let Damon go to the Yankees'
Q.6 Finish the following: "Chinese, Japanese, Dirty Knees,....
A. ... I know you are, but what am I"?
B. ...Talk to the hand"
C. ...Look at these"
D. ...Have you seen THESE"
Q7 You remember exactly where you were when you found out:
A. JFK was shot
B. JR Ewing was shot
C. Kurt Cobain was shot
D. Tupac was shot
E. ...how about Lincoln,...anybody?
Q.8 Which of the following bands derive their name from a Dickens novel:
A. Lothar and the Hand People
B. Uriah Heep
C. Wham
D. Black-Eyed Peas
Q.9 The Theme song for your Senior Prom was:
A. Color my World
B. Cain't Touch This
C. Dream On
D. Stacy's Mom has Got it Goin' on
Q.10 "Kung-Fu Grip" refers to what:
A. a Game-Boy induced cramping of the forearms
B. 1974 Porno Movie starring Ron Jeremy
C. 'Hand-Action' feature of certain G.I. Joe Action Figures
D. Hong Kong Flu
If you answered 'YES' to any of these questions, you may be a Sufferin' Bastard. Welcome in Brether'n.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Hudson's Annual Barn-Jam: a review
Host Tom-Cat Hudson and Dave LaStrange Kareoke-King Ronny, Professor Boylan,
contemplate the virtues of Jameson's and BFC, who is seriously reconsidering
that last Jello-Shot.
Hudson Party (sung to the tune of Ricky Nelson's Garden Party)
I went to a Hudson Party, the other night with some old friends,
to have some drinks and play guitar, maybe catch a little twing,
When I got to the Hudson party, out stepped Dave LaStrange,
he had a guitar in his one hand and in the other had a bottle of James
But it's alright now, I learned my lesson hard,
you can crash out in the barn or you can sleep out in the yard
There was a Strange Brew brewin', with Laura on the Mic,
playing all the funkey songs that everybody liked,
Saw Big Bruce and Buddy Hudson out in the Sparkin' Lot,
then Jean and Jay passed my way and poured me a double-shot
But it's alright now, I learned my lesson hard,
You can sleep out on the couch, or you can stretch out in your car
So I put on my ol' guitar, cuz' that's the reason I came,
played 'em all the old songs, that anybody named,
Played some old Hillbilly, played some funky Blues,
But when I mentioned Status Quo, I knew I was bound to lose
But it's alright now, learned my lesson well,
if you want to play 'Pictures of Matchstick Men', y'gonna have play it y'self
The sun was nearly coming up, figured it was time to go,
then Tom-Cat poured me another shot that put me to the floor,
If you go to a Hudson Party, I wish you a lot of luck,
but you better bring your sleeping bag, you'll probably wind up sleepin' in your truck
But it's alright now, I learnt my lesson well,
You can sleep upstairs with the dogs, or you can crash out with Ol' Tom
La in da da da, la in da da da, somethin' somethin' da da
I got invited to this years annual Hudson Barn Jam and, let me tell you, this reporter was very exited. I got my gear, loaded it into my brandy-new Saturn and hit the highway. I had the MC5 kicking out the jams and life was good. I arrived promptly at 7 and commenced to swillin'. Big Bruce got the evening started by shooting of his homemade cannon, and before long the usual line of suspects started arriving. The music started and, as usual it was top-shelf. Speaking of top-shelf, the Jack Daniels Select Buddy Hudson brought was most savory, as was the selection of well-timed late night snacks provided by Hostess Laura Hudson. Somewhere on into the night, whether it was from the Jello Shots or from the second-hand smoke from the Sparkin' Lot, things got a little 'Jimi Hendrixy', and I ended up sleeping with Appolo and Luna on the Dog-Bed. I awoke a couple of hours later, about breakfast, to see Ol' Tom, Dave and Ronny talking Geo politics out in the barn, still alive and kicking. But it was off to work for me, with fond memories, albeit vague ones, and very much looking forward to the next Hudson event.
BFC out!
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
It's the story.... of a man named Jesus...
In the news this week: protestors urge a boycott of the movie the DaVinci Code, and with good reason. The film, which stars Tom Hank’s hair, is based upon the best-selling book by Dan Brown about the secret conspiracy to hide the facts of Jesus’ supposed marriage to Mary Magdalene.
It’s going to get worse before it gets better, of course. In production now, is the sequel, which actually gives us the lowdown about the marriage itself. You want something to protest? Check out the proposed story for DaVinci Code II: The Jesus Bunch.
We start off with a big tic-tac-toe board, with Jesus in the top center square, Mary Magdelene on the bottom, the other squares occupied by Peter and Greg and Marica and Judas. In the center: their housekeeper, Alice.
It’s the story
Of a man named Jesus
Who was preaching to twelve apostolic boys
All of them had hair of gold
Like their father
The youngest one in goys!
Cut to: a kitchen, with Alice making macaroni and cheese on the big range. Mary Magdalene, at her side, is listening to the Beatles on the oldies station, “The Ballad of John and Yoko:”
Christ you know it ain’t easy!
You know how hard it can be!
The way things are gooooing—
The door opens, and in comes the Messiah, briefcase in hand.
“Hi honey! I’m home!”
“Hi pumpkin!” says Mary.
“Hi, Mr. C,” says Alice.
Mary Magdelene him a little peck on the cheek. “How was work?”
“Oh you know,” says Jesus, discouraged. “Another day, another shekel.”
“The devil again?”
Jesus sighs. “You know what he’s started now? A line of chocolate donut franchises!”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” says Mary Magdelene. “First Starbucks, now this.”
“Go on, Mr. C,” says Alice. “Take your shoes off. You want me to anoint your feet?”
“Oh, I’m all right. You know me. I always bounce back!” He pours himself a glass of water from a pitcher. “You want some wine?”
“Sure pumpkin.”
Jesus pours some water into another glass, waves his hand over the stemware, hands a goblet to Mary Magadelene.
“Mm,” says the Magdelene. “What’s this, Merlot?”
“Shiraz,” says the Lord. “Is it too peppery?”
“No, it’s great.”
“Hi Daddy!” cry the children, who come running into the room, their arms outstretched.
“Hi Peter! Hi Marcia!” said Jesus. “Hi Judas!”
The lord’s children hug His knees. “You guys done your homework?”
Peter looks a little sheepish. “I was hoping you could help me.”
“Now now,” says Jesus. “We talked about this.”
“But it’s algebra,” said Peter. “I hate it!”
“I don’t see why you couldn’t just bless the math homework,” said Mary Magdalene. “Just this once.
“Jesus,” whines Judas, “I want a GameBoy?”
“Let’s see how your grades are, young man, then we’ll talk about a GameBoy.”
“But Marica has a GameBoy!”
“Marcia got straight A’s! Marcia earned a GameBoy!”
“Marcia Marcia Marcia!” shouts Judas.
“You keep your voice down.”
“But she’s such a dufus!” he says, trying to kiss her.
“Don’t start with the kissing,” says Mary Magdelene.
“You don’t say dufus in this house, young man, and I mean it.”
“Darn it,” says Alice. “I didn’t make enough dinner! There’s not going to be enough to feed the multitude!”
“Oh for Pete’s sakes,” says the Lord. “I’ll handle it. You get the plates.”
Somehow the whole family is fed with the single pot of macaroni and cheese. Marcia pushes her dinner around with a fork. “Eeeww! What is this stuff?”
“Try it, honey,” says Jesus. “You’d be surprised.”
Marcia takes a bite. “Wow!” she says. “It tastes like chocolate frosted doughnuts!”
Mary Magdalene looks at her husband reproachfully. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to?” she says. “You’re wrong.”
From the stereo comes the sound of the Youngbloods on the oldies station.
Come on people now,
Smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another, right now.
“I’m sorry I called him a dufus,” says Judas.
“I forgive you,” says Jesus.
The Lord sits back, unbuttons the top button on his pants, and sighs, happily. “I always liked this song,” he says.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
UP IN THE HIZZLE
beloved childrens' author Theodore Geisel
Monday, May 15, 2006
Weekly Celebrity Haiku Vol.#57
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Salad Days Vol.#89: Easy Livin'
It was the Fall/ Winter of 1984. Uncle Frank and I had just purchased the cottages on the lake that would eventually be turned into the palaces which we all grew to know and love on the vast compound we now call East Mosquitoville. It was the best of times; it was the best of times. I had just saved up $6000, and under Frank's judicious tutoring had aquired enough construction acumen to make my little lakeside bungalow into something Bob Vilas would surely envy.
The plan was this: Frank and I would take a voluntary lay-off from ZVI Construction. We would collect unemployment and 'work' in the woods. We would keep busy working on the camps with the money we had saved and Voila!...
Easier said than done. Without the insufferable scrutiny of a supervisor on our tails, without the structure of a 9 to 5 routine, and without a real care in the world, we soon slipped into a casual, comfortable,'not gettin' a God-Damned thing done' modus operandus. It went something like this: I would get up about 8:30 am, put on some coffee, catch a re-run of Magnum P.I., then head down to Frank's. He was, at that point, in a full head of steam about some project he was going to finish, but was currently in the process of 'planning out'. I would soon join him, usually accompanied by one or more of my esteemed cronies, who had crashed at my swingin' bachelor pad, and then the fun began.
Some days, we actually got some work done (we COULD, when inspired, work effectively and determinedly), but generally it didn't last long. Usually, it was the prognosticating and brainstorming about shit we were going to do, or should do, that took up most of our morning hours. Fueled by vast oceans of coffee, we soon devolved from prognosticating to general bufoonery and monkeyshines by about 11:30 am. This might involve various subjects as shooting out car windows with BB Guns, shooting ME in the ass with a BB Gun, human catapults, sunglasses for dogs, explosives made from Horseshit, or the like. Frank definitely had a gift for making the infinitely ridiculous not only easily imaginable, but highly fuckin' likely.
Actually, some days we actually worked in the woods. We'd usually cut about $40 worth of Cedar logs, borrow a truck to haul it to the Mill, then promptly blow our Wad on cheap Swill- an extremely wise investment in retrospect. But, alas, most days were spent on what we used to call 'Dubbin', taking rides up North for any or no apparent reason, off on a wild goose chase in search of a 1920 Model A Jitterbug in 'Mint' condition. Or it could be Dump-Picking, or boat hunting; any ruse to go have some fun. Ponder the possiblilties! Why the Hell not? So what if my Cottage was NOT getting renovated in any hurry. So what if my $6000 cache was dwindling down, soon forcing us to scamper back out onto the 'Road', to Chicago, and work up some more scratch. So what if I had to store the Beer in my fridge, not to keep it cool, but to keep it from Fuckin' freezing, cuz my cottage was so cold! It was worth squandering every penny on cheap 'ice-cold', and to think I could have been working the whole time. Hanging with Frank was certainly an education, and I got a PhD. in the School of the Infinitely Ridiculous with a Magna cum Laude!
Bigfoot Chester's: Your Weekly Horoscope
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Muddah turns 40-Something
My oldest buddy and used to be frequent contributor to this site, Marc Warren celebrates a birthday today. Well, he may not be celebrating it, but it's here nonetheless. Hey buddy, I got you the same thing I got you last year, d'ya like it? Why, oh why are we not out canoodling some rapids? It's not fair.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Message To The Boys
http://home.comcast.net/~alineback/05042006Rome2MessageToTheBoys.mp3
Same old rules apply ... if you hate this, there isn't enough suck in the world to adequately describe you.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
bLOG hAS mOVED
I have changee the name of the Blog because, un-fucking believable as it might seem, some other joker had what I thought was a singularly stupid idea, and called his b'log the Unemployed Philosopher's Guild. It's a pretty good sight, actually, here check it out (bastards):
Thursday, May 04, 2006
On the Moon
http://www.blogjam.com/neil_armstrong/
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Oh say can you—zzzzzrrrp!
By the glaxnix zoid rezza zeerp!
What so eep! Eep! Eep! Eep! we hailed
By the twilight’s last zzzrrvev-rep! Zap!
My father’s people came here from Mars—at least that’s what my mother always said—so I have to admit I take these issues rather personally. I still remember my grandmother sitting out by the pool on a summer day, retracting and extending her scary metallic antennae.
“Don’t ever be ashamed of your people, Jenny,” she used to say. “Remember, Martians are just like anybody else, except we can use telepathy to make people’s minds explode.”
She was a sweet old thing. All the kids called her “Gampy,” although her real name, of course was Telecaster-Nine-Warp-ZAXXOZZ. To be fair, my Irish grandfather sometimes got tired of being married to the only woman in our neighborhood with a giant pulsating brain. “But remember Jenny,” he’d say to me. “It’s better to be married to someone with a giant pulsating brain than the opposite.”
I still wonder what he meant by this.
Martians, of course, aren’t the only aliens waiting for their shot at the American dream. You don’t hear so much about them, but the Venusians have an ancient culture as well, based on free love and communal ownership of property and worshipping the deep spirituality of nature. Oh, wait, that’s Hallowell! Well, anyway, I’m sure Venus is a very nice place as well, excepting for its atmosphere which is a constant hailstorm of deadly methane, ammonia, Top Job and Spam. You want to know what Venus is like? Think Los Angeles, without George Hamilton.
Yes, yes, I can hear Lou Dobbs saying, that’s all well and good, but once these characters get here they start demanding access to the fruits of American civilization, like, for instance, three-dollar-a-gallon gas. Is that why we’re paying taxes? So a bunch of women (as I understand Venus is populated entirely by women) with tentacles, gills, and hideous prehensile tongues can take away our jobs, our menfolk, and the national anthem?
You’ve probably heard the “Venusian” version of the national anthem by now, recorded by a chorus of horny Venusian gals and slowed down by the Internal Revenue Service to a pitch audible by humans:
Oh say can you—oh never mind
What I really want to do
Is to mmmm—pour fruit juice
On your pecs from this shoe.
Your broad stripes and bright stars
And the rest make me pine
For your big Yankee fists
On my gills, you wild swine!
The Congress has been wrestling this last week with the aliens issue, and thank god the the Republicans and Democrats have finally set their bipartisan differences aside, and are working toward a compromise solution that will benefit all Americans. Ha! Ha! Ha!
No, just kidding. What actually happened was that Senator Kennedy said that Senator Brownback was a “fundamentalist nut-job” and Senator Brownback, for his part, said that Senator Kennedy looked like a “big swole-up potato.”
Shortly after this, they started calling each other names.
It made me think, not for the first time, that maybe Mars or Venus wouldn’t be such a bad place to live sometimes, at least compared to Washington. There are worse things to breathe than Top Job, as it turns out.
In the meantime, aliens continue to cross through the radiation belt, day after day, slowly but surely becoming part of our culture, ready or not.
Who knows? Maybe one day soon we’ll elect the first president who isn’t even human. Can you imagine it, the country run by some inarticulate buffoon who can barely speak English, some crazy nut who’d divide the country, and launch wars against planets that haven’t even attacked us?
Oh what am I thinking? Something like that? Happening here? That’d be out of this world.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Monday, May 01, 2006
S.A.D.
Why don't they just change it to Real Assholes against drunk driving . . . that way they can stick with RADD . . . and we'll all still know who they're talking about.
the Alien problem
In the news this week: the problem of illegal aliens. Some of you may even have heard the new “all-Martian” version of the national anthem, which was buzzed into people’s minds on Friday using some sort of horrible Martian mental death ray.
Oh say can you—zzzzzrrrp!
By the glaxnix zoid rezza zeerp!
What so eep! Eep! Eep! Eep! we hailed
By the twilight’s last zzzrrvev-rep! Zap!
My father’s people came here from Mars—at least that’s what my mother always said—so I have to admit I take these issues rather personally. I still remember my grandmother sitting out by the pool on a summer day, retracting and extending her scary metallic antennae.
“Don’t ever be ashamed of your people, Jenny,” she used to say. “Remember, Martians are just like anybody else, except we can use telepathy to make people’s minds explode.”
She was a sweet old thing. All the kids called her “Gampy,” although her real name, of course was Telecaster-Nine-Warp-ZAXXOZZ. To be fair, my Irish grandfather sometimes got tired of being married to the only woman in our neighborhood with a giant pulsating brain. “But remember Jenny,” he’d say to me. “It’s better to be married to someone with a giant pulsating brain than the opposite.”
I still wonder what he meant by this.
Martians, of course, aren’t the only aliens waiting for their shot at the American dream. You don’t hear so much about them, but the Venusians have an ancient culture as well, based on free love and communal ownership of property and worshipping the deep spirituality of nature. Oh, wait, that’s Hallowell! Well, anyway, I’m sure Venus is a very nice place as well, excepting for its atmosphere which is a constant hailstorm of deadly methane, ammonia, Top Job and Spam. You want to know what Venus is like? Think Los Angeles, without George Hamilton.
Yes, yes, I can hear Lou Dobbs saying, that’s all well and good, but once these characters get here they start demanding access to the fruits of American civilization, like, for instance, three-dollar-a-gallon gas. Is that why we’re paying taxes? So a bunch of women (as I understand Venus is populated entirely by women) with tentacles, gills, and hideous prehensile tongues can take away our jobs, our menfolk, and the national anthem?
You’ve probably heard the “Venusian” version of the national anthem by now, recorded by a chorus of horny Venusian gals and slowed down by the Internal Revenue Service to a pitch audible by humans:
Oh say can you—oh never mind
What I really want to do
Is to mmmm—pour fruit juice
On your pecs from this shoe.
Your broad stripes and bright stars
And the rest make me pine
For your big Yankee fists
On my gills, you wild swine!
The Congress has been wrestling this last week with the aliens issue, and thank god the the Republicans and Democrats have finally set their bipartisan differences aside, and are working toward a compromise solution that will benefit all Americans. Ha! Ha! Ha!
No, just kidding. What actually happened was that Senator Kennedy said that Senator Brownback was a “fundamentalist nut-job” and Senator Brownback, for his part, said that Senator Kennedy looked like a “big swole-up potato.”
Shortly after this, they started calling each other names.
It made me think, not for the first time, that maybe Mars or Venus wouldn’t be such a bad place to live sometimes, at least compared to Washington. There are worse things to breathe than Top Job, as it turns out.
In the meantime, aliens continue to cross through the radiation belt, day after day, slowly but surely becoming part of our culture, ready or not.
Who knows? Maybe one day soon we’ll elect the first president who isn’t even human. Can you imagine it, the country run by some inarticulate buffoon who can barely speak English, some crazy nut who’d divide the country, and launch wars against planets that haven’t even attacked us?
Oh what am I thinking? Something like that? Happening here? That’d be out of this world.