oatmeal: “Remember that ‘Farina’ kid from ‘Our Gang’? Well, to this day Aunt Jemima swears he wasn’t mine, but the fact is, we got loaded on gin Gibsons and bumped uglies in the coat check closet at Hal Roach’s 1919 Christmas Party, so the timing’s about right—and besides, any fool could see the boy had my smile…”
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Recent Comments
- In The Mailbox: 02.28.23 (Afternoon Edition) : The Other McCain on Hey, longtime pw readers…
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This won’t be funny to many folks outside of Atlanta, but I’ve always thought that The Quaker Oats Man was a ringer for Dr. Sid.
I don’t see how that post of yours could possibly be any unfunnier. Nice work, Jeff.
Eat it. It’s the right thing to do.
Jeez larry, things could always be unfunnier.
Don’t blame me, Larry. Blame the oatmeal.
Who, I’ll admit, can be a bit bland at times.
Oh. And F Troop ROCKS!
Try the Minnie Ripperton response:
Eating you
Is easy because you’re edible….
Having breakfast with you
I hardly have to chew
Eating you
Is more than just a meal come true….
And every spoonful of goo
Means there is less of you….
Me, I was partial to the original Ghostbusters. You know, Spencer, Tracy and Kong.
You trying to tell us Farina was Amish?!
GMG, that’s silly. Whoever heard of Amish Oats®?
Farina was a girl. Buckwheat’s sister, supposedly.
Although the same kid played both parts. Must’ve put quite a twist on his head, one imagines.
OT–whatever the hell the topic is: This is pretty funny. According to the AP, “France will participate in an international peacekeeping force for Lebanon under certain conditionsâ€Â.
Yeah, on condition they stop fighting.
Buckwheat was not played by Allen Hoskins (who played Farina); he was played by Billie Thomas.
You’re a lucky man, Jeff. I need half a bottle of whiskey to think of things like this and then I don’t remember them afterwards.
(I have to type in “position” to post my comment? Your spam filter is a pervert.)
If I were Oatmeal, I’d be flipping that round-assed Pancake over, drizzle her with melted butter, and pour on that hot, sweet maple syrup. But first, I’d drown myself with brown sugar, cause, you know, Pancake loves her some brown sugar.
Is that you Denny Crane?
Actually, I suspect it was Edward Albee.
Everyone knows that I have the biggest c**k in Hollywood.
F. Tucker
TW: office F Troop just another day at the office.
So tie a yellow ribbon on your SUV
Just to piss off some
Stupid punk commies;
Cuz when they see that ribbon on your SUV
They’re apt to go nuts, BDS putz
Halliburton McChimpy!
Each time they see that ribbon on your big-ass SUV
Oatmeal! You’re back! And . . . well, you know the phrase, “too much information”? Yeah, maybe “TMI”.
But who are we to complain? You’re talking oatmeal, for pete’s sake!
We’re talkin oooaaaaatmeal
Quaker and United
Ooooaaaaatmeal
You’re all fucking invited
Take it away, Dan
If Fatty Arbuckle were here, he’d be telling you that there’s no other kind of Gibsons.
(And if I weren’t being so pointedly anonymous here (because one o’ them Feministes might be able to finger me, seeing as I made her top-ten list once (and it was really hard to resist outing myself just to ruin her day)), I’d share a really funny non-gin Gibson story (with semi-famous people in it).
ßhite.)
BECAUSE OF THE APPLES AND CINNAMON!!!!!!!
Because seriously, Apple? Cinnamon? Mixed together in a broiling broth of oats?
For Breakfast?
There is somenthing better than this?
Explain.
You’ve been reading zuzu’s diary again, haven’t you BoZ?
The Quaker Oats man looks like Barbara Bush. I saw that on SNL, so it must be true.
However, I think there is a strong connection to Grandfather Clock on Captain Kangaroo.
Tw:daily
Eating oats daily will keep you regular.
Ground control to William Penn
Ground control to William Penn
Water’s boiling, oatmeal’s in
Ground control to William Penn
Looks delicious
But I’d rather have french toast…
Forrest: That’s nonsense. Everybody knows that I have the biggest c**k in Hollywood. (’Just take out enough to win.’
Pixie: You’re right. The Quaker Oats man does look like Barbara Bush.
Is there anything better that this?
Waffles made with stone-ground scottish oats (not those nasty, slimey quaker rolled oats)buttermilk and butter. Toss on a honking cupful of mixed berries (raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries)and heaven is near.
TW: meet my sunday breakfast.
Bonus: they don’t do much talking. Nothing to disturb one’s coffee but the plaintive alarm of the waffle-iron.
The French are pretty much toast.
Yeah, but what about Farina’s sister, Trix, is she yours too? Cause she’s out on the corner hookin’. And I think Lucky Charms might be, you know, queer.
That’s odd, when my wife, Scottish Kate, makes oatmeal it just sort of goes, “blub blub”.
But then it’s technically not oatmeal, since she uses Scott’s Porridge Oats.
And all Buzz the Honeybee ever does is sit around getting the munchies. And if you say anything to him about it, he just says, “Dude, you are such a me-kill!”
OT (and my apologies) but this is the last word on the Greenwald sock puppet affair.
I’m giving fair drink warning here!
(via Patterico)
This entire thread makes absolutely no sense. I like it! I give it an 8.
Darn it! Darleen beat me to it.
I’ll have a glenn of sock puppets to go with that oatmeal, please.
– Oatmeal has to make sense? What is that, some sort of PC breakfast thing….
– Oatmeal is best enjoyed in a Sunday morning fog…Bedhead while spooning (the ceareal, not your honey) is good too. Makes you feel entirely relaxed and splendidly useless.
And Big Cooze has just suggested an adjective. When someone deservedly has the snot kicked out of him, it’s simply glendid.
Non sequitor—Wuzzadems plaid puppet is like, the cutest thing I have ever seen. I want one of those.
Sheer brilliance.
My favorite line was: “Are you obsessed with me?”
Bwahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
There’s gotta be a song out there to the tune “Ben” by the other guy that wears a sock puppet on his hand.
NO PEPSI FOR YOU!
Drudge headline that Iran is calling for a ban on American products like Pepsi & Nestle. I don’t think they are American products anymore.
Glenn, the six of us need look no more
We all found what we were looking for
With a hand to call my own
Ill never be alone
And you my Glenn will see
Youve got a friend in me
(youve got a friend in me)
Ben, you always comment here and there
(here and there)
You feel not respected everywhere
(everywhere)
If you ever look behind
And dont like whom you find
Theres something you should know
I’m still your puppet ho
(I’m still your puppet ho)
You used to say, I and me
Now its us, now its we
(You used to say, I and me)
(now its us, now its we)
Ben, most people would turn you away
I dont diss you just because you’re gay
They dont see you as I do
I wish they would try to
Im sure theyd let this pass
With your hand up their ass
(up their ass)
Like Glenn
(like Glenn)
Like Glenn
And a brace of banjos!!
tw: southern… Ahh yessuh.
I thought I’d go with something more traditional that speaks to the appropriate reverence:
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of Greenwald;
He is trampling on Chimphitler with his blogging of The Word;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His mighty truthy sword;
His troops are marching on.
Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah! Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah!
Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah! His troops are marching on.
I’ve seen Mona in the bowels of a hundred enemy camps
She has builded Him an altar while she’s dewy and she’s damp;
But when Ellison comes at you there’s no way you stand a chance;
His blog is marching on.
Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah! Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah!
Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah! His blog is marching on.
I have read a fiery Gospel writ so long I need a nap;
“As I deal with My critics, we’ll ensnare you in my trapâ€Â;
Let the Hero, born of ego, rearrange the ethics map,
Since Glenn is marching on.
Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah! Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah!
Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah! Rick Ellensburg is marching on.
He has sended forth the forces that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting through the minds of men before His judgment seat;
Oh, be swift, my keyboard, to praise Him! be jubilant, my feet;
His socks are marching on.
Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah! Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah!
Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah! His socks are marching on.
In the beautiful favelas David was born down in Brazil,
He has our Hero oft within him, and a PC, and His will:
David took one for Dear Leader, when they moved in for the kill
Those bastards piling on!
David! David! Hallelujah! David! David! Hallelujah!
David! David! Hallelujah! Those bastards piled on.
He is coming like the glory of the morning on the wave,
He is wisdom to the mighty, He is honor to the brave;
So the Times shall be His footstool, and the Senator his slave,
Glenn Greenwald marches on.
Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah! Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah!
Glenny! Glenny! Hallelujah! Glenn Greenwald marches on.
Oh, Dan, I’m your puppet ho!
Oh Pablo, I’m dewy and damp!
Ya’ll just crack me up!
Thank you Thank you
Dan, Pablo – seriously good. We’re talking Miyamoto Musashi-level good here.
What sock is this
That speaketh so
Defending its boyfriend
In comment threads?
Its sweaty musk
Doth overpow’r
All fa-act and logic
Preceding.
Greenwald, please put your shoes
Back on for we are retching
Greenwald, make not a fool
Of yourself lest it be catching.
This helps me make start to make sense of a catastrophic episode from just a few days ago. Let’s call it:
“Home Fries and Hand Grenades”
The other day a 4Dr Honda plowed into a coffee shop where I was finishing up a great American steak & eggs breakfast. The Honda took out a glass door, a small booth, the short side of an L-shaped sit-down counter … and a wall of resaurant food supply items. After at most 12 seconds a young African-American woman stepped out of the wreckage. She staggered over to a plush, aquamarine-vinyl circular booth and plopped down. Although not bloodied, she was in the first stages of shock – her eyes were unfocused and she couldn’t speak.
Unfazed by bits of beaded glass that moments before had pattered off my face and table, I made sure to do the right thing. I made sure someone called 911, then I pulled a chair alongside the woman, and repeated slowly and softly, “Help is on the way,” “Everything’s gonna be okay.” etc. All the while I paid close attention in case she were to pass out. Fortunately, all the pros (EMT, PD and FD) arrived in 5 to 7 minutes.
What disturbs me, though, is that during this catastophe Mr. Quaker Oats and Ms. Aunt Jemima—piled in a messy heap with the Morton Salt girl and the Arm & Hammer—never for a moment lost their trademark smiles. (I didn’t see this with my own eyes, but don’t ask me how I know. I just know.) The Morton Salt girl hid under her umbrella – understandable – and the Arm & Hammer flexed his muscles for the clean-up – always reliable. But it saddens me to think that those other great American breakfast icons might have actually enjoyed the mayhem, damage, and danger that had gone down in front of them. Or worse, were indifferent?! And when I had done my part to minimize the consequences of a disaster at hand. I guess I’ll never know….
Mr. Quaker Oats.
Pacifist my ass.
I forget to mention: it could have been worse, a lot worse. It could have been an airplane.
I think that particular bowl of oatmeal needs to be served with a steaming cup of STFU.
(With apologies to Allan Carr and all the kids at Rydell high)
Greasewald is the word!
We go together –
We go together, like old wool socks
awada wada ding dong
I’m right behind you, hand up your derrier
shoo-bop sha nanna boom boom
Chang chang changity chang shoo bop
That’s the way it should be….
Waooo Yeah
(chorus)
We’re one of a kind like
dip da dip da dip do whap de dobby do
Our names are signed like
boogy boogy boogy boogy shooby shoo wap shoo wap
Chang chang changity chang shoo bop
we’ll always be like one
Wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-one
When we go out a night (oh oh)
And stars are shining bright (oh, oh)
Up in the blogosphere
Everyone will know we’re here
Where you can find us, all twelve of me… oh, oh, oh, oh, oh oh, oh
(bridge, fortisimo)
Ramma lamma lamma ka dingity ding da dong
Fake names!
Shoo bop shoo wadda wadda yippity boom da boom
Dumb mustache!
Chang chang changity chang shoo bop
Same Emails!
Yip da dip da dip shoo bop sha dooby do
Posers R us!
Boogy boogy boogy boogy shooby sho wap sho wap
We Love Me!
Sha na na na na na na na yippity dip da do
A womp bop a looma a womp bam boom
Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh……
(fini)
We’re for each other like
womp bop a looma a womp bam boom
Just like my brother socks
sha na na na na na na na yippity dip da do
Chang chang changity chang shoo bop
We’ll always be together….
Waooo Yeah!
We’ll always be together…
We’ll always be together…
(group fortisimo)
DOIN’ THAT JUMPIN’ HAND JIVE, SHA RAMA RAMA BOOM BOOM!!!!!
Shit. Well, the reason that Jeff hasn’t posted is because he’s received a visit from the ASPCA regarding the treatment of a marmoset. Strange thing is the tip came from Brazil. So, in the meanwhile, I guess we’ve got open mic for the nonce.
Mona was mine
til the time
That I found her
With Amanda
Licking panda
Then Dave came along
Loved me strong
That’s what I thought
Me and him
Retro-quim
Don’t know that I will
But until I can find me
A human who’ll stay
And wont play games behind me
Il’l be what I am
A sockpuppet man
Sockpuppet man
I’ve had it to here
Sucking beer
By my lonesome
Blogging whore
Tryin’ to score
I know its been done
Having one
Fan who’ll love me
Right or wrong
Pass the bong
Don’t know that I will
But until I can find me
That human who’ll stay
And who’ll treat my ass kindly
I’ll be what I am
A sockpuppet man
Sockpuppet man
Cooze, you win. This round.
I dunno, Dan. The Neil Diamond riff is straight up argyle if you ask me. IMHO, as always.
Perhpas this answers the age old question, “How come you taste so good?”
If oatmeal could talk it would wish that a brilliant and talented science teacher would be named after it.
At least it got the science teacher part right…sorry about the brilliant and talented part, though–I guess there’s only so much one can do with oatmeal for brains.