1) Thanks so much to Karl Bock for the Criterion DVD of Fritz Lang’s M. After the events of the last week or so, I’m not sure whether the choice of title is remarkably apt or painfully ironic. But I’m grateful, either way. Thanks also to Brian Malby for the Sword and the Stone DVD. My son is already talking about sitting down with mescaline and a box of glazed toaster strudel and “melting into the Disnified mythology of Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur.” And by “my son” I mean, of course, me. Toaster strudel has way too much sugar for a two-year-old—and I strive above all else to be an excellent parent.
2) Speaking of mescaline and mythology, thanks so much to Skyler Bryan for the 30 lb brass armadillo (female), which creature has earned a place of prominence atop the center surround-sound speaker on my TV set. Where, in addition to acting as an attractive centerpiece, she remains safely out of reach of a certain randy little roommate of mine. That is, unless he ever sobers up enough to figure out how to stack milk crates, or use a mini-grapling hook.
But with Boone’s Farm at a buck a bottle, what are the chances of that happening?
3) I’ll be appearing tonight on Pundit Review Radio, for those of you interested. The show starts at 7 eastern and is broadcast on WRKO Talk Radio, Boston (free registration required to listen live); I’ll be on at 9:20 or so. But you’ll want to tune in earlier for the other guests: Ann Coulter, Ralph Peters, and Matt from Blackfive.
4) For the record, I woke up Sunday morning / With no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt / And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad / So I had one more for dessert / Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes / And found my cleanest dirty shirt / An’ I shaved my face and combed my hair / An’ stumbled down the stairs to meet the day / Who told me to make it some waffles / or else it would throw a tantrum and refuse to do the dishes / the passive-aggressive bastard.
I thought I would get a thank-you for having not commented for 2 weeks.
Someone once told me Kris Kristofferson actually landed on Johnny Cash’s front lawn in a helicopter, walked up and hand-delivered that song, asking him to sing it. Apocryphal? Maybe. But what a story!
And not a bad song, neither.
Mmm.. Boone’s Farm. It’s a wonder we didn’t all die of formaldehyde poisoning. didn’t know they still made the stuff.
The prototypical yuppies in my highschool drank Mateus, exclusively.
Where can one obtain a bronze armadillo?
If the roommate you are referring to is your toddler, he WILL get the armadillo if it is where he can see it. Don’t ever underestimate their problem solving abilities!
I take that back. I didn’t read the “sobers up” part. Obviously not a kid!
Formal-d-hide! I knew that taste was familar.
Boone’s Farm, Annie Green Springs, that horrble Champale. Yes, the drinking age was 18 many moons ago.
As a teen I once drank something called, “Red Rocket.” It came in a flat, clear fifth bottle on which the label was affixed crookedly, and it tasted like straight paint thinner with a drop of red food coloring in it. Since that day, I seem to have lost all sensation in the bottom of my feet.
The second worst thing I ever had to drink as a teen was “Mickey’s Malt Liquor.” Don’t bother with it; it tastes exactly like what you throw up after a hard night of drinking real liquor. It’s not worth the time or effort.
One line Cash used to do in his live road appearences, was talking about how he came to singing as a career. His daddy was a real life share cropper/preacher, and when he asked him about it one day he claimed he told him; “Son, if you want to be happy and successful in life, do what you know.”….”But daddy, what if you don’t know anything?”…”Well son, then I guess in a pinch you can be a politician…”
TW: Man lived a good life, in between bouts of bad life. June straightened him out.
HI, JEFF, HOW’S THE HEAD THIS MORNING?
Well Jeff, sorry about your condition but where I sit it is “Another Day in Paradise”, right here in beautiful KANSSSSSAS CITEEEEEE, MISSOURI!! where it is hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock, and scheduled to be so for the entire week. (High temps forcast for over 100 through Thursday.
However, I have closed on the sale of the business, and now have a JOB and received a pay check (signed by someone other than me) for the first time in 26 years, my new grandson (welcome to the world Joshua Owen) born on the 5th of July with a collapsed lung and pneumonia is out of danger and allowed to go home to his parents….and though the air conditioning went out on my car yesterday, I’m not going to sweat the small stuff……now the only thing that could top it all off is a snappy tap and twirl by that armored platypuss that shares your domain….we’re still waiting.
Oh..there is an antique store nearby that carries the name, “The Brass Armadillo”. My next trip by, I’ll snap a picture and forward it.
Thanks so much to Karl Bock for the Criterion DVD of Fritz Lang’s M.
You’re welcome!
After the events of the last week or so, I’m not sure whether the choice of title is remarkably apt or painfully ironic.
Well, a bit of both, leaning towards painfully ironic.
TW: Peter Lorre; as in just compare his eyes with Frisch’s. Man, that Fritz Lang was a freakin’ prophet, I tell ya…
Why?
One word: teething.
Shhhh!
Jesus.
– Congrats rls – Not many things in life that you love get to remind you every day that you’re OOOLLLLDDDDD. But I got used too it.
– Seems like all of Jeff’s ‘dillos have brass…
Ah, the Man in Black:
On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I’m wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothing short a’ dying
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.
With regards to the ‘dillo, the first clue is likely to be mesteriously appearing brass shavings on the carpet, as if from a drill…
SB: after
the gold rush
Oh, and:
Mes compliments au chef…
SB: place
maison
The presidency of bush is an utter failure. Any fool can set the world on fire and I’ll bet you-all can think of a few who did. bush’s job was to keep the Peace and he has failed at that task. Peace
wow, so what does Sunday morning look like? I don’t think i’ve seen one for years.
bush’s job was to keep the Peace and he has failed at that task.
Funny, I don’t remember any use of the word “peace” in the presidential oath of office. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong. Peace? Not sure where you got that part of the job descpription, imhotep. Here’s the job description, as laid out in Article II, Section I of the U.S. Constitution:
I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.
Nope. No use of “peace” that I can see.
TW: Peace. Peace through superior firepower.
<blockquote>The presidency of bush is an utter failure. Any fool can set the world on fire and I’ll bet you-all can think of a few who did. bush’s job was to keep the Peace and he has failed at that task. Peace
Imhotep,
slight correction here. The Prez’s oath of office calls for him to protect and defend the constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic.
Not ‘keep the peace’.
Fucking moron moonbat.
Wow, Chief Mojo, you into your third beer, too??
Heh
Imhotep:
“The presidency of bush is an utter failure. Any fool can set the world on fire and I’ll bet you-all can think of a few who did. bush’s job was to keep the Peace and he has failed at that task. Peace”
What the fuck was that? Some kinda wanker drive-by? Only without guns. Or context. Or a point. Get a life, twinkie.
That was “easy”
Actually, I am into my third beer. How ‘bout that?
TW: Hops.
Imhotep,
The mission of trolls on this site is to not sound like you just stumbled in from Junior High debate club.
Your posting is a dismal failure.
Hi Hotep! ImPablo. STFU, would ya?
Back on topic:
Now think Mike Ness.
GOOD
MORNING!!!AFTERNOON!!!Tequila shooter? I got the cheap shit!
Ignore Actardo Supersleaze. His vagisil ran out today and he is mas stupider than usual.
If I didn’t know better I’d think the faux pharaoh is convinced it’s America’s job to be policeman of the world.
Speaking of making one feel old…
I wouldn’t put it past the little guy to climb up there, I’m always finding my little one in odd places with no idea how he got all the way up there….
About Champale: oh, for the days when one could drink malt liquor for lunch in a corporate environment without raising eyebrows.
So . . . do we get a picture of this ‘dillo?
hey Gomer, if you find the right company, you still can…. place i’m temping now has “Beverage Fridays” even has a margarita machine in the breakroom.
Careful with the armadillo, Jeff. Turned around the other day–an eerie quiet had had descended on the house–and the 14 month old was standing on the dining room table reaching for the antler chandalier. A mescalinated toddler would be swinging…
Ohhh. I forgot about that whole teething thing. It must be some kind of species-preservation phenomenon. You forget the obnoxious stuff long enough to think how cute they are and then … BAM! Here comes another one! (Well, I made notes the second time!)
What toddlers do to your nerves is nothing compared to what an 18-year-old can do, however. You may wish to save some of that tequila for later.
I would really like a brass armadillo. A real brass armadillo. Unless there is some obscene reference to armadillos that I am unaware of. This is quite possible. I still like armadillos, though.