Glenn's latest lyrics, inspired by all the dopes who constantly call out sick when they're NOT.
ANOTHER PHONY SICK DAY
Chorus:
He took another phony sick day
When he ain't really sick
Another phony sick day
Man, that guy won't quit
Verse 1:
Looked great when we saw him
In the bar 'round 1 a.m.
And the last time that he called out
He came back with a tan
But he left our boss a voicemail
Used his "I'm sick" cough
Said he fell and stubbed a toenail
And he needs the whole week off
Chorus:
He took another phony sick day
When he ain't really sick
Another phony sick day
Man, that guy won't quit
Verse 2:
He somehow picked up parvo
Though I'm sure he's not a pup
Food poisoning at S'barro
"Dude, I CAN'T STOP THROWING UP!"
Last week was the vapours
Next week he'll get gout
Or nicked with his new razor
And damn-near bleed right out
Chorus:
He took another phony sick day
When he ain't really sick
Another phony sick day
Man, that guy won't quit
Bridge:
How could he still be walkin'
With health that's so debased?
He'd be inside a coffin
They'd shoot off into space
Verse 3:
Now he's at the office
And this time it's for real
He's sneezing and he's coughing
And hacking with great zeal
My temperature is rising,
He shoulda stayed at home
Used up all his sick time
Now we've gotta use our own!
Chorus:
He took another phony sick day
When he ain't really sick
Another phony sick day
Man, that guy won't quit
Copyright July 27, 2012 by Glenn Page
Showing posts with label satire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label satire. Show all posts
Friday, July 27, 2012
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
10 Types of Open Mic Performers You're Sure to Encounter
1. OVERPLAYED CLASSIC ROCK GUY - Sure, Neil Young, Bob Dylan, James Taylor and Van Morrison are legends. But enough is enough! You might think you've heard "Brown Eyed Girl" or "Carolina in My Mind" enough to last you 889 lifetimes and a few millennia into your final death, but this guy sure as hell doesn't think so - you need to hear them a few thousand more times! Who cares if there are literally thousands of well-known, phenomenal songs in the history of Western music? Let's break out "Ohio" or "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" one more time! Yes, when you hear those wailing, plaintive harmonica notes, you know yet another rendition of "Heart of Gold" is on the way, tempting you to dunk your face directly into your scalding-hot, overpriced coffee drink.
Performing Skill: 6 out of 10
Creativity: 2 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 8 out of 10
2. WAILING, JAZZY, SUNDRESS GIRL - Holy crap! This girl can really sing! This open-mic performer is blessed with an amazing set of pipes and, by god, she's not afraid to use 'em. Her pitch is dead on, and she effortlessly belts out standards like "At Last" and "Unforgettable" LOUD ENOUGH to blow down the back wall of the coffee house. She's humble and sweet and makes you want to slit your wrists for ever thinking you could warble your way through any song with more than a 3 whole-step range. You won't mind the loud singing, but you may not hear the oncoming traffic as you walk home later in the evening.
Performing Skill: 9 out of 10
Creativity: 6 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 10 out of 10
3. RAMBLING, QUITE POSSIBLY MENTALLY ILL GUY - This is the "musician" that gets up and "sings" three "songs" which are completely atonal - and not in an experimental avant-garde sort of way. In fact, the words sound more like someone reading the local paper's editorial section backwards. Come to think of it, there's a good chance that's what it is. This fellow is the single most powerful argument against the democracy of the open mic, but no one will say anything because, well, they're scared sh*tless.
Performing Skill: 10 out of 10 - in creeping people out
Creativity: Maroon out of Chimpanzee
Crowd Approval: N/A - More like abject terror mixed with a singular desire to avoid eye contact.
4. THE BAD CHECKS - Three self-involved musicians and/or singers (x, y, and z) who arrive together and, by going up individually AND in every possible combination (x plays guitar while y sings; y and z both sing with no x; all three go up together, etc. etc.), manage to keep coming back, thereby turning the three-song-per-artist limit into a four-hour (albeit spread-out) Springsteen-final-night-at-the-Garden-length extravaganza.
Performing Skill: 5 out of 10 - but only when you add the three together.
Creativity: 3 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 7 for the first set, plummets to 2 by the time they hit the stage for the 6th or 7th time.
5. AMERICAN IDOL WANNA-BE - Her friends told her she should be on Idol! Her mom told her she should be on Idol! Her teachers told her she should be on Idol! There's only one small problem: She sucks. And you're the only one who knows it, so you get to listen to her bleating "Jesus Take the Wheel" heinously off-key to a grand total of 8 people (three who are her relatives).
Performing Skill: 1 out of 10
Creativity: Negative 8 out of 10
Ego: 578 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 7 out of 10, except for you
6. DEADHEAD OUT-OF-TIME - He's a young man of only 17, decked out in flip-flops, cargo shorts and a tie-dyed t-shirt. He sports trendy, barely-there facial hair, smells vaguely like oregano, and while he does enjoy more recent jam-band Phish, his heart truly belongs to the Dead. How this is possible, no one knows, considering the band passed their artistic zenith almost 25 years before he was born, but there he is, trotting out such chestnuts as "Casey Jones," "Ripple" and "Uncle John's Band." No "Shakedown Street," though.
Performing Skill: That's not what it's ABOUT, MANNNN
Creativity: Depends on what sort of a night he's having
Crowd Approval: 10 if they had some, er, "oregano" earlier that evening. 4 if not.
7. THE POET - Ah, yes, we DO all try to indulge the poet, don't we? Haha! That cute little limerick about coffee was sort of cute, but uh oh, now he's doing his magnum opus... oh no... he's got reams and reams of pages... how long does this thing go on? Are we going on 10 minutes for one poem here? Is this supposed to be profound? I guess that part was important, he just used a really bad curse word... oh, there it is again. Maybe it's the name of the poem. Sigh. What's all this stuff about birds in maple syrup? Man, I really need to read more poetry... maybe I'd appreciate this stuff more...people are laughing, I guess THEY get it. Damn it!
Performing Skill: 7 out of 10
Creativity: 8 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 8 out of 10, because we don't want to look like idiots
8. MEGA-MONSTER-EXTENDED -VERSION GUY: Closely related to The Bad Checks (See #4), this is the cat who was told there's a "three song limit." (as opposed to a time limit) so he's going to turn every song into "Inna Gada Davida," even if it kills him and you. Sure you'll be sitting there thinking, "I could have sworn `Take It Easy" only has 3 verses, not 27," but that's your tough luck.
Performing Skill: 5 out of 10
Creativity: 2 out of 10
Crowd Approval: They're usually on the verge of rioting by verse 22
9. INSTRUMENTAL GUY - With rapturous intensity and a nuanced touch, he executes beautifully sculpted and tender lead lines on his classical guitar, breathing new life into vintage melodies. With each delicate note, some say it's as if this virtuoso is channeling the gods of music themselves. In other words, bathroom break.
Performing Skill: Off the charts
Creativity: 10 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 6 out of 10, the philistines
10. THE SENSITIVE SOUL - He trots out every top 40 love song (or quasi-love song) from the last 10 years - stuff like "You're Beautiful", "Your Body Is a Wonderland", and "Apologize." If things get really rough, he'll whip out a "She Will Be Loved." Anything with the wavering, aching falsetto in the chorus will do, really. As long as it gets him laid.
Performing Skill: 9 out of 10
Creativity: 1 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 10 out of 10 (women) 0 out of 10 (men)
Photo by: Brian Richardson
Performing Skill: 6 out of 10
Creativity: 2 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 8 out of 10
2. WAILING, JAZZY, SUNDRESS GIRL - Holy crap! This girl can really sing! This open-mic performer is blessed with an amazing set of pipes and, by god, she's not afraid to use 'em. Her pitch is dead on, and she effortlessly belts out standards like "At Last" and "Unforgettable" LOUD ENOUGH to blow down the back wall of the coffee house. She's humble and sweet and makes you want to slit your wrists for ever thinking you could warble your way through any song with more than a 3 whole-step range. You won't mind the loud singing, but you may not hear the oncoming traffic as you walk home later in the evening.
Performing Skill: 9 out of 10
Creativity: 6 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 10 out of 10
3. RAMBLING, QUITE POSSIBLY MENTALLY ILL GUY - This is the "musician" that gets up and "sings" three "songs" which are completely atonal - and not in an experimental avant-garde sort of way. In fact, the words sound more like someone reading the local paper's editorial section backwards. Come to think of it, there's a good chance that's what it is. This fellow is the single most powerful argument against the democracy of the open mic, but no one will say anything because, well, they're scared sh*tless.
Performing Skill: 10 out of 10 - in creeping people out
Creativity: Maroon out of Chimpanzee
Crowd Approval: N/A - More like abject terror mixed with a singular desire to avoid eye contact.
4. THE BAD CHECKS - Three self-involved musicians and/or singers (x, y, and z) who arrive together and, by going up individually AND in every possible combination (x plays guitar while y sings; y and z both sing with no x; all three go up together, etc. etc.), manage to keep coming back, thereby turning the three-song-per-artist limit into a four-hour (albeit spread-out) Springsteen-final-night-at-the-Garden-length extravaganza.
Performing Skill: 5 out of 10 - but only when you add the three together.
Creativity: 3 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 7 for the first set, plummets to 2 by the time they hit the stage for the 6th or 7th time.
5. AMERICAN IDOL WANNA-BE - Her friends told her she should be on Idol! Her mom told her she should be on Idol! Her teachers told her she should be on Idol! There's only one small problem: She sucks. And you're the only one who knows it, so you get to listen to her bleating "Jesus Take the Wheel" heinously off-key to a grand total of 8 people (three who are her relatives).
Performing Skill: 1 out of 10
Creativity: Negative 8 out of 10
Ego: 578 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 7 out of 10, except for you
6. DEADHEAD OUT-OF-TIME - He's a young man of only 17, decked out in flip-flops, cargo shorts and a tie-dyed t-shirt. He sports trendy, barely-there facial hair, smells vaguely like oregano, and while he does enjoy more recent jam-band Phish, his heart truly belongs to the Dead. How this is possible, no one knows, considering the band passed their artistic zenith almost 25 years before he was born, but there he is, trotting out such chestnuts as "Casey Jones," "Ripple" and "Uncle John's Band." No "Shakedown Street," though.
Performing Skill: That's not what it's ABOUT, MANNNN
Creativity: Depends on what sort of a night he's having
Crowd Approval: 10 if they had some, er, "oregano" earlier that evening. 4 if not.
7. THE POET - Ah, yes, we DO all try to indulge the poet, don't we? Haha! That cute little limerick about coffee was sort of cute, but uh oh, now he's doing his magnum opus... oh no... he's got reams and reams of pages... how long does this thing go on? Are we going on 10 minutes for one poem here? Is this supposed to be profound? I guess that part was important, he just used a really bad curse word... oh, there it is again. Maybe it's the name of the poem. Sigh. What's all this stuff about birds in maple syrup? Man, I really need to read more poetry... maybe I'd appreciate this stuff more...people are laughing, I guess THEY get it. Damn it!
Performing Skill: 7 out of 10
Creativity: 8 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 8 out of 10, because we don't want to look like idiots
8. MEGA-MONSTER-EXTENDED -VERSION GUY: Closely related to The Bad Checks (See #4), this is the cat who was told there's a "three song limit." (as opposed to a time limit) so he's going to turn every song into "Inna Gada Davida," even if it kills him and you. Sure you'll be sitting there thinking, "I could have sworn `Take It Easy" only has 3 verses, not 27," but that's your tough luck.
Performing Skill: 5 out of 10
Creativity: 2 out of 10
Crowd Approval: They're usually on the verge of rioting by verse 22
9. INSTRUMENTAL GUY - With rapturous intensity and a nuanced touch, he executes beautifully sculpted and tender lead lines on his classical guitar, breathing new life into vintage melodies. With each delicate note, some say it's as if this virtuoso is channeling the gods of music themselves. In other words, bathroom break.
Performing Skill: Off the charts
Creativity: 10 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 6 out of 10, the philistines
10. THE SENSITIVE SOUL - He trots out every top 40 love song (or quasi-love song) from the last 10 years - stuff like "You're Beautiful", "Your Body Is a Wonderland", and "Apologize." If things get really rough, he'll whip out a "She Will Be Loved." Anything with the wavering, aching falsetto in the chorus will do, really. As long as it gets him laid.
Performing Skill: 9 out of 10
Creativity: 1 out of 10
Crowd Approval: 10 out of 10 (women) 0 out of 10 (men)
Photo by: Brian Richardson
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
BP's All-New Top Secret Slogans and Ad Campaigns!
In the wake of the massive oil leak in the gulf, we here at NOANBS were fortunate enough to get our hands on top secret BP documents itemizing some of the slogans and ad campaigns the company is reviewing for a forthcoming bid to "clean up" their image. Which one they'll choose is still kinda murky, so here's the whole lot of 'em. Check 'em and tell us what you think while we go and wash the oil off our hands.
* BP - We're not evil, just kinda clueless.
* BP - Scary? This ain't scary. Think about the shark from "Jaws." Now THAT shit is scary.
* BP - Why travel? We're bringing the "Black Sea" to YOU!
* BP - Remember, for pelicans, swimming in oily sludge is kinda like Jello wrestling. Think of it as "Pelican Spring Break."
* BP - We didn't want to have to tell you this, but we're actually trying to kill a ferocious sea monster.
* BP - Keeping the "evil corporation" stereotype alive in ALL your favorite Hollywood movies!
* BP - Shit, can the moon just blow up or something, so we can get off the front page already?
* BP - ...Even a Paris Hilton wardrobe malfunction would bump us to page 8 or so.
* BP - Seriously, we'll take a Larry King nip slip at this point.
* BP - Doing our part to make the Book of Revelations seem less silly everyday.
* BP - Hang on, this is the Book of Revelations? I thought it was our corporate manual...
* BP - Yes, we DO care about the "little people." You know, the ones who only make like 500k a year.
* BP - Hey, we're British! We've got those cool accents and we brought you "Dr. Who" and Emma Peel - that should count for something, right? RIGHT?
* BP - We are so f*cked.
* BP - We're not evil, just kinda clueless.
* BP - Scary? This ain't scary. Think about the shark from "Jaws." Now THAT shit is scary.
* BP - Why travel? We're bringing the "Black Sea" to YOU!
* BP - Remember, for pelicans, swimming in oily sludge is kinda like Jello wrestling. Think of it as "Pelican Spring Break."
* BP - We didn't want to have to tell you this, but we're actually trying to kill a ferocious sea monster.
* BP - Keeping the "evil corporation" stereotype alive in ALL your favorite Hollywood movies!
* BP - Shit, can the moon just blow up or something, so we can get off the front page already?
* BP - ...Even a Paris Hilton wardrobe malfunction would bump us to page 8 or so.
* BP - Seriously, we'll take a Larry King nip slip at this point.
* BP - Doing our part to make the Book of Revelations seem less silly everyday.
* BP - Hang on, this is the Book of Revelations? I thought it was our corporate manual...
* BP - Yes, we DO care about the "little people." You know, the ones who only make like 500k a year.
* BP - Hey, we're British! We've got those cool accents and we brought you "Dr. Who" and Emma Peel - that should count for something, right? RIGHT?
* BP - We are so f*cked.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
New Social Networking Improvements from FateBook
Important: This is a social networking alert, brought to you by the good folks at FateBook.
Great news guys. Starting today, for your increased convenience, we here at FateBook will be sending your Social Security number, a photocopy of your driver's license, close ups of that identifying birthmark, and the current addresses of your last four lovers to the owners of any websites you happen to visit, as well as all the people who have visited those sites in the last 6 years and their yorkshire terriers.
We will also be automatically forwarding all incriminating photos (online or not) of you getting inebriated to any and all prospective employers, so they can see what a fun-loving person you are. Hell, in fact, any sites you just THINK about clicking on are gonna get your info.
We hope these ongoing "tweaks" will streamline and enrich your FB experience. If you want to be a little bitch and opt out of these defaults, simply go to "settings" then punch "options," before clicking on the smaller-than-a proton "opt out" tab and the "I'm a little bitch" button.
Then, frantically un-click as many of the 8,475 boxes as you possibly can before your PC freezes up (conveniently) and you have to try and re-do the whole damn thing, only so we can override your selections anyway when we roll out the next batch of privacy invas--- er, improvements.
Remember, our goal here at Fatebook is to facilitate your online experience and make it more rewarding for YOU! (while trying to figure out some damn way to make this furshlugginer thing profitable already - Krist! You think we give a crap you just ate a ham on rye sandwich???)
Sincerely, FateBook
(P.S. Click here to tell us how much you "like" these improvements!)
(P.P.S. Come on, you KNOW we're gonna get that info somehow - why don't you just give in now and make it easy on all of us?)
Great news guys. Starting today, for your increased convenience, we here at FateBook will be sending your Social Security number, a photocopy of your driver's license, close ups of that identifying birthmark, and the current addresses of your last four lovers to the owners of any websites you happen to visit, as well as all the people who have visited those sites in the last 6 years and their yorkshire terriers.
We will also be automatically forwarding all incriminating photos (online or not) of you getting inebriated to any and all prospective employers, so they can see what a fun-loving person you are. Hell, in fact, any sites you just THINK about clicking on are gonna get your info.
We hope these ongoing "tweaks" will streamline and enrich your FB experience. If you want to be a little bitch and opt out of these defaults, simply go to "settings" then punch "options," before clicking on the smaller-than-a proton "opt out" tab and the "I'm a little bitch" button.
Then, frantically un-click as many of the 8,475 boxes as you possibly can before your PC freezes up (conveniently) and you have to try and re-do the whole damn thing, only so we can override your selections anyway when we roll out the next batch of privacy invas--- er, improvements.
Remember, our goal here at Fatebook is to facilitate your online experience and make it more rewarding for YOU! (while trying to figure out some damn way to make this furshlugginer thing profitable already - Krist! You think we give a crap you just ate a ham on rye sandwich???)
Sincerely, FateBook
(P.S. Click here to tell us how much you "like" these improvements!)
(P.P.S. Come on, you KNOW we're gonna get that info somehow - why don't you just give in now and make it easy on all of us?)
Thursday, January 7, 2010
2010: I Give Up
Hey, we all know there's no better way to kick off a new year than immediately looking back at the past and coasting on your past accomplishments. Why go out and create something new, vital, and topical when you can just as easily plunder the archives, then punch out early and go down a cold one? With that in mind, we proudly present the 1995 classic "Jerry's Dead," by Jonathan Shaloum and featuring at least one familiar face...
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Worst Strip Club Names of All Time
• SAGGERS
• THE DIRTY POLE
• WARTS 'N' ALL
• THE VAGUELY DEPRESSING INN
• CLUB VACCINATION
• EYE SOREZ
• MOM'S
• THE VAPORIZED PAYCHECK
• PENIS!
• BOB'S TOTALLY NUDE REVUE & ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT SALAD BUFFET AND FINGER FOODS
• SKANKY'S
• DEAD EYES
• SHREWS
• KINDA PATHETIC LOUNGE
• DOLLAR FURNACE
• MILDRED'S OLDE TIME STRIPPY CLUBBE
• RESTRAINING ORDERS
• VD ZONE
• PUKEY'S
• THESE CHICKS ARE DUDES
• SHUFFLERS
• DELUSION FACTORY
• THE FAINT, BUT DEFINITELY THERE, WEIRD ODOR CABARET
• RELICS
• PHALLUS PALACE
• THE PIERCING STARE CLUB
• STRETCHMARKS
• PETRI DISHES
• HOT ASS: A SOPHISTICATED GENTLEMAN'S CLUB
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Review: The Damned, So Who's Paranoid? (English Channel)
Hey there music fans! This month, in honor of my being a big ol' lazy-ass, I'll be taking a break and turning over the reviewing reins to our special guest critic, the editor of "Real Punk!!!" magazine, Dickie "Mashpit" (???) Moroney. Take it away, Dickie!
Ever since Green Day single-handedly invented punk rock way, WAY back in 1994 (thereby giving skateboarders something to listen to at the mall and obliterating boring, corporate rock bands like The Pixies and The Dead Milkmen), it really ruffles my hoodie when some new, loser no-talents come along and try to mess with the seminal templates put forth by the great-granddaddies of punk: Offspring, AFI, Good Charlotte, and the all-mighty Blink-182. For example, take these jokers, THE DAMNED, and what I believe to be their first album, "So Who's Paranoid?"
OY! Where to start? First of all, let's take the name, "The Damned." Yeah, real original guys. It kinda makes me wanna ask these fakes, "Hey you posables, haven't you ever heard of "Damn YANKEES? Or the "DamnWELLS?" Sheeesh, maybe they should have checked allmusic guide before trying to steal some of Ted Nugent's muted thunder. But don't be fooled! There's nothing on this CD that sounds ANYTHING like "High Enough" by Damn Yankees (who, I believe, invented heavy metal and strip clubs, according to Wikipedia).
No, instead of something cool like that, or anything approaching PURE punk rock like the kind Bowling for Soup do so well it's like they just pulled it out of their collective asses, we get an hour or so of some wretched PUNK-GOTH-PSYCHEDELIA-ROCK bullcrap I can barely listen to, let alone describe, but god help me, I'll try.
First off, what is with the singer? Instead of singing in a nasally, super-cool-cause-it's-slightly-flat voice, this guy - Dave Vivian Vance or something - is actually SINGING at times! Yeah, you heard me right; he's doing a weird croony thing and singing melodies that actually sound inventive and different from one song to the next. I mean, what the F**K??? I don't know about you folks, but I'm not happy if my punk songs don't all have identical, interchangeable, shouty vocals, especially in the "we-must-get-this-song-played-on-corporate-radio-at-all-costs-so-screw-musical-integrity" chorus.
Not only that, but this "Dave" guy doesn't randomly scream from time to time like he's literally trying to tear his vocal cords in two and generate some artificial punk "intensity." Oh sure, he shouts, but he only does it when - get this - he has a reason to! This lame-o actually has a theatrical/campy goth vibe, like someone who's watched too many b-grade horror films. And when I say "horror films," I mean the old black and white crap with people like Boris Carlott, Peter Cushion, and Dick Chaney Jr.; I'm not talking about the totally rad new stuff like "Hostel 2" or "Turistas."
Anyway, I could almost bear the gothic thing D.V.'s got going, but the dude goes about it all wrong. Instead of sounding all super-serious and overly-important when he sings (like he might off himself or the listener at any moment), this tool actually has a sense of humor about what he's doing, like he's in on the joke. WHAT??? NONONO! That's ALL WRONG!!! If you're gonna go dark, you gotta make sure you're dangerously close to lapsing into unintentional self-parody at any second.
I could swear this "Dave" fellow thinks that punk rock is about crafting your own eclectic style, rather than following the iron-clad rules laid down by cool trailblazers like Fall Out Boy. Damn, at least Fall Out Boy have a wide assortment of bad-ass t-shirts and backpack pins down at Hot Topic, which means they must be good.
However, even worse than the singing on "So, Who's Paranoid?" is the horrendous music underneath it. For the most part, this stuff is like hooky garage rock and tripped-out psychedelia performed with raucous punk energy and delivered with a slightly dark edge. I know, SOUNDS TERRIBLE RIGHT??? GAKKK!!! Who wants to listen to clever chord patterns when Green Day has just re-released "Dookie" (renamed "21st Century Breakdown") for the 8th time in a row??? Who wants songs stuck in their head for days on end??? Man, I've got to clear out any extra cerebral space ASAP so I have room for the 75 or so rocking new tunes the record companies want me to download this week. Now you know why these "Damned" guys ain't on a major label, like all great punk bands.
Seriously, track after annoying track on this CD just reeks of tunefulness and cool, fuzzed-out guitar riffs. Not only that, but there's all kinds of weird sounds that should never be on a "punk" album (according to my friends), like rock organs and bells and handclaps and Brighton-gay-men's choirs, and HELL, if I didn't know better, I'd swear these guys are trying to expand their musical palette by even listening to classical from time to time!!! I think they need to put away anything from the "Romantic" period and spend a little more time listening to My Chemical Romance, if you know what I mean.
So, there you have it: "So Who's Paranoid" by this week's flash-in-the-pan punk band "The Damned" is a total misfire. Hummable and catchy, yes, but, COME ON! There's literally not ONE song on here that, with a little bit of tweaking to the arrangement, could be turned into a full-blown top 40 hit for Pink. And that's just not punk rock, man.
And what's with the guy in the red beret? What a winker.
Zero Stars!
*************************************************************
Nite Owl note: Despite what our guest reviewer thinks, my own personal ranking of "So Who's Paranoid" by punk legends the Damned is:
**** (four out of five stars)
Notable Tracks: "Under the Wheels," "Dr. Woofenstein," "Shallow Diamonds," "Danger to Yourself," "Perfect Sunday"
Ever since Green Day single-handedly invented punk rock way, WAY back in 1994 (thereby giving skateboarders something to listen to at the mall and obliterating boring, corporate rock bands like The Pixies and The Dead Milkmen), it really ruffles my hoodie when some new, loser no-talents come along and try to mess with the seminal templates put forth by the great-granddaddies of punk: Offspring, AFI, Good Charlotte, and the all-mighty Blink-182. For example, take these jokers, THE DAMNED, and what I believe to be their first album, "So Who's Paranoid?"
OY! Where to start? First of all, let's take the name, "The Damned." Yeah, real original guys. It kinda makes me wanna ask these fakes, "Hey you posables, haven't you ever heard of "Damn YANKEES? Or the "DamnWELLS?" Sheeesh, maybe they should have checked allmusic guide before trying to steal some of Ted Nugent's muted thunder. But don't be fooled! There's nothing on this CD that sounds ANYTHING like "High Enough" by Damn Yankees (who, I believe, invented heavy metal and strip clubs, according to Wikipedia).
No, instead of something cool like that, or anything approaching PURE punk rock like the kind Bowling for Soup do so well it's like they just pulled it out of their collective asses, we get an hour or so of some wretched PUNK-GOTH-PSYCHEDELIA-ROCK bullcrap I can barely listen to, let alone describe, but god help me, I'll try.
First off, what is with the singer? Instead of singing in a nasally, super-cool-cause-it's-slightly-flat voice, this guy - Dave Vivian Vance or something - is actually SINGING at times! Yeah, you heard me right; he's doing a weird croony thing and singing melodies that actually sound inventive and different from one song to the next. I mean, what the F**K??? I don't know about you folks, but I'm not happy if my punk songs don't all have identical, interchangeable, shouty vocals, especially in the "we-must-get-this-song-played-on-corporate-radio-at-all-costs-so-screw-musical-integrity" chorus.
Not only that, but this "Dave" guy doesn't randomly scream from time to time like he's literally trying to tear his vocal cords in two and generate some artificial punk "intensity." Oh sure, he shouts, but he only does it when - get this - he has a reason to! This lame-o actually has a theatrical/campy goth vibe, like someone who's watched too many b-grade horror films. And when I say "horror films," I mean the old black and white crap with people like Boris Carlott, Peter Cushion, and Dick Chaney Jr.; I'm not talking about the totally rad new stuff like "Hostel 2" or "Turistas."
Anyway, I could almost bear the gothic thing D.V.'s got going, but the dude goes about it all wrong. Instead of sounding all super-serious and overly-important when he sings (like he might off himself or the listener at any moment), this tool actually has a sense of humor about what he's doing, like he's in on the joke. WHAT??? NONONO! That's ALL WRONG!!! If you're gonna go dark, you gotta make sure you're dangerously close to lapsing into unintentional self-parody at any second.
I could swear this "Dave" fellow thinks that punk rock is about crafting your own eclectic style, rather than following the iron-clad rules laid down by cool trailblazers like Fall Out Boy. Damn, at least Fall Out Boy have a wide assortment of bad-ass t-shirts and backpack pins down at Hot Topic, which means they must be good.
However, even worse than the singing on "So, Who's Paranoid?" is the horrendous music underneath it. For the most part, this stuff is like hooky garage rock and tripped-out psychedelia performed with raucous punk energy and delivered with a slightly dark edge. I know, SOUNDS TERRIBLE RIGHT??? GAKKK!!! Who wants to listen to clever chord patterns when Green Day has just re-released "Dookie" (renamed "21st Century Breakdown") for the 8th time in a row??? Who wants songs stuck in their head for days on end??? Man, I've got to clear out any extra cerebral space ASAP so I have room for the 75 or so rocking new tunes the record companies want me to download this week. Now you know why these "Damned" guys ain't on a major label, like all great punk bands.
Seriously, track after annoying track on this CD just reeks of tunefulness and cool, fuzzed-out guitar riffs. Not only that, but there's all kinds of weird sounds that should never be on a "punk" album (according to my friends), like rock organs and bells and handclaps and Brighton-gay-men's choirs, and HELL, if I didn't know better, I'd swear these guys are trying to expand their musical palette by even listening to classical from time to time!!! I think they need to put away anything from the "Romantic" period and spend a little more time listening to My Chemical Romance, if you know what I mean.
So, there you have it: "So Who's Paranoid" by this week's flash-in-the-pan punk band "The Damned" is a total misfire. Hummable and catchy, yes, but, COME ON! There's literally not ONE song on here that, with a little bit of tweaking to the arrangement, could be turned into a full-blown top 40 hit for Pink. And that's just not punk rock, man.
And what's with the guy in the red beret? What a winker.
Zero Stars!
*************************************************************
Nite Owl note: Despite what our guest reviewer thinks, my own personal ranking of "So Who's Paranoid" by punk legends the Damned is:
**** (four out of five stars)
Notable Tracks: "Under the Wheels," "Dr. Woofenstein," "Shallow Diamonds," "Danger to Yourself," "Perfect Sunday"
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Faux News Flash: Desperate for Inspiration, Bruce Springsteen Attempts to Burn Down Recently Revitalized Asbury Park When No One's Looking
(Asbury Park, New Jersey) Citing a depressing dearth of metaphor-inspiring abandoned buildings, as well as the staggering failure of his latest CD, "Sunrise over the Sand," rock mega-star Bruce Springsteen claimed he was driven to desperation this past weekend when he attempted to burn down the newly rejuvenated Asbury Park boardwalk and convention hall.
"Man, y'all don't understand. I need inspiration! I just can't sing about burgeoning businesses and artists making an economic comeback on their own terms," croaked Mr. Springsteen as he was taken into custody near the Stone Pony Rock Club, where he was found brandishing a full can of gasoline and a Zippo brand lighter at 3:48 am Sunday morning. "I mean, first there was Obama giving us all hope for the future, and now we've got nice, clean storefronts on this formerly run-down and desolate strip of Ocean Avenue? Man, that's just freakin' depressing."
According to sources, Springsteen, who has made billions of dollars using Asbury Park's poverty-stricken streets as a creative springboard for writing hundreds of infectious, hummable, rock-and-roll tunes, had been recently overheard bemoaning the infusion of cash into the long-suffering shore town. In a recent interview published in Cigar Aficionado magazine, Springsteen stated, "I can write about the way Christine and Danny's once-promising relationship has decayed and faded like the walls of the [recently demolished] Palace Amusements. Or I can compare a down-on-her-luck stripper to an old, beat-up tilt-a-whirl.
"But Jesus, what am I supposed to say about that upscale sushi joint on the corner?" Springsteen continued. "I guess I could write about their inability to provide a decent wasabi paste, or their failure to bring the cocktails in a timely fashion… er, not that I would know about that, of course. Heh."
When pressed further, Springsteen, whose songs have propelled him to god-like icon status while arguably fomenting learned helplessness and a fatalistic mentality in the working class by romanticizing their plight, ennobling questionable life choices, and mythologizing shitty economic circumstances, went on to say, "I guess I could write about how garish everything is now and how it all lacks integrity… ah, let's face it, I'm gonna bitch no matter what this place looks like."
Adding to Springsteen's growing dismay in the last few months was the resounding flop of his latest single, "Yacht Town." Moreover, a close friend revealed that "The Boss" was angered when someone pointed out that "My Lucky Day" sounds a bit too much like the chorus to [80's rock band] The Cutting Crew's ill-fated second single, "One for the Mockingbird."
Springsteen was released on 5 million dollars bail early Tuesday afternoon. In a surprising turn of events, the songwriter was reportedly in good spirits, having quickly penned 53 songs for a planned triple-CD about the injustices of the Asbury Park penal system, which, for two nights straight, denied him access to his favorite brand of red wine and forced him to use a pillow with a thread count of less than 500.
No date has been set for Springsteen's trial. When questioned about his immediate plans, the Jersey rocker smiled and whispered in his trademark gruff voice, "I've got this new album of prison songs I need to record. And while Asbury Park is doing ok right now, I think we can all agree that the U.S. economy at large is still pretty much f---ed. People are out of work, down on their luck, and struggling just to get by. So things are definitely looking up."
"Man, y'all don't understand. I need inspiration! I just can't sing about burgeoning businesses and artists making an economic comeback on their own terms," croaked Mr. Springsteen as he was taken into custody near the Stone Pony Rock Club, where he was found brandishing a full can of gasoline and a Zippo brand lighter at 3:48 am Sunday morning. "I mean, first there was Obama giving us all hope for the future, and now we've got nice, clean storefronts on this formerly run-down and desolate strip of Ocean Avenue? Man, that's just freakin' depressing."
According to sources, Springsteen, who has made billions of dollars using Asbury Park's poverty-stricken streets as a creative springboard for writing hundreds of infectious, hummable, rock-and-roll tunes, had been recently overheard bemoaning the infusion of cash into the long-suffering shore town. In a recent interview published in Cigar Aficionado magazine, Springsteen stated, "I can write about the way Christine and Danny's once-promising relationship has decayed and faded like the walls of the [recently demolished] Palace Amusements. Or I can compare a down-on-her-luck stripper to an old, beat-up tilt-a-whirl.
"But Jesus, what am I supposed to say about that upscale sushi joint on the corner?" Springsteen continued. "I guess I could write about their inability to provide a decent wasabi paste, or their failure to bring the cocktails in a timely fashion… er, not that I would know about that, of course. Heh."
When pressed further, Springsteen, whose songs have propelled him to god-like icon status while arguably fomenting learned helplessness and a fatalistic mentality in the working class by romanticizing their plight, ennobling questionable life choices, and mythologizing shitty economic circumstances, went on to say, "I guess I could write about how garish everything is now and how it all lacks integrity… ah, let's face it, I'm gonna bitch no matter what this place looks like."
Adding to Springsteen's growing dismay in the last few months was the resounding flop of his latest single, "Yacht Town." Moreover, a close friend revealed that "The Boss" was angered when someone pointed out that "My Lucky Day" sounds a bit too much like the chorus to [80's rock band] The Cutting Crew's ill-fated second single, "One for the Mockingbird."
Springsteen was released on 5 million dollars bail early Tuesday afternoon. In a surprising turn of events, the songwriter was reportedly in good spirits, having quickly penned 53 songs for a planned triple-CD about the injustices of the Asbury Park penal system, which, for two nights straight, denied him access to his favorite brand of red wine and forced him to use a pillow with a thread count of less than 500.
No date has been set for Springsteen's trial. When questioned about his immediate plans, the Jersey rocker smiled and whispered in his trademark gruff voice, "I've got this new album of prison songs I need to record. And while Asbury Park is doing ok right now, I think we can all agree that the U.S. economy at large is still pretty much f---ed. People are out of work, down on their luck, and struggling just to get by. So things are definitely looking up."
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Whole Foods, Semi-Nuts
I ventured into an organic food store this weekend – I won’t say the name but it rhymes with WHOLE FOODS – and it made me wonder about a few things, like how anyone can shop at Whole Foods on a regular basis without ending up wholly broke. Personally, I was only there to buy some super-powered probiotics, because it’s hard to maintain optimal levels of bile and venom unless you reinforce your stomach with mega-doses of amicable bacteria from time to time. At any rate, here are a couple of my random musings, with the maximum dosage of CSC units (cynical, snarky comments) per observation.*
First of all, does every stray herb, mineral, plant, fruit, vine, weed, berry, thorn, bacteria, bean, and clump of dirt to ever grace Gaea’s green earth have "miraculous" healing properties that some remote tribe has utilized for "thousands of years?" It seems that even the ones that look like they could kill you deader than my site traffic (stinging nettle, anyone?) possess amazing "regenerative and healing" properties. Wow! Fancy that.
You would THINK there would be at least one or two herbs that just f*ck your ass up and don’t have much to recommend them, but health food stores give me the distinct impression that every herb does something beneficial, if you look hard enough. What, none of them are just inert? You know, they don’t do a damn thing one way or the other? Apparently not. I think when all else fails, they just slap the old "refreshes your spirits" on the label. I normally leave that to my bartender, but hey, who can argue with "refreshes your spirits?"
Also, why is it always "thousands of years" of health benefits? I guess "cooked up by our marketing team a few weeks ago" just doesn’t have the same ring to it. Can’t you just see the research team at Eden’s Natural Garden of Bountiful Organic Harvest coming up with their latest "miraculous" product? "
*************************************************************
R&D Guy 1: Hey, what the hell are these berries?
R&D Guy 2: I don’t know, but they taste like ass.
R&D Guy 3: That means they’re bursting with anti-oxidizing properties.
R&D Guy 2: Tastes more like pro-ass-tasting properties.
R&D Guy 1: If this is anti-oxidizing, I am definitely pro-oxidation. Go oxidation!
R&D Guy 4: Those are heineyassa berries. They’re extremely rare.
R&D 1: Thank god.
R&D 2: So what do they do?
R&D 3: Well, nothing is proven, but several studies suggest heineyassa berries may increase the tensile strength of one’s nostril hair by as much as 3 percent.
R&D 4: Ok, it’s not much, but I guess we can work with it. What kind of dosage are we talking in order to achieve the desired effect?
R&D 3: Six hundred and sixty eight billion grams a day.
R&D 2: Six hundred and sixty eight billion grams!!!
R&D 3: Roughly equivalent to filling a ’73 Gremlin with heineyassa berries. Including the trunk. And the glove compartment. Maybe a couple strapped on the hood.
R&D 4: *Sigh* Well, can we do a concentrated form? You know, one one of those nasty drinks that never mixes properly?
R&D 1: You mean the ones that leave a mound of purple sludge at the bottom of the glass, even if you stir it until your arm comes out of its socket? And then you have to take our overpriced glucosmaine supplements until your arm heals?
R&D 4: Yeah, those.
R&D 3: We could do that. Then you’d only have to drink about 2 oil drums of heineyassa juice a day. However, you WILL have the strongest, thickest, and most manageable nose hair on the block.
R&D 2: By 3 percent.
R&D 1: Literally by a nose hair.
R&D 3: One other problem: They’re grown in Florida.
R&D 2: So?
R&D 4: Yeah, that’s bad. Florida is too pedestrian. We need to come up with some exotic sounding locale where the natives are shrouded in a mystical aura simply because they’re not American.
R&D 2: People who wouldn’t be caught dead eating heineyassa berries, but can be safely exploited from a distance.
R&D 1: Right, and make sure the label has a lot of "spiritual" looking symbols like birds and people dancing. Or some crap like that. I’m telling ya, people eat that sh*t up.
R&D 2: They sure do. Hell, if they’ll eat heineyassa berries they’ll eat anything.
(Everyone laughs as they pile into an SUV and then drive over to McDonald's for Big Macs. With extra large fries.)
*************************************************************
Can't you just see it? Can't you? Huhn? What do you mean "No?" Ah, go eat some heineyassa berries, why doncha.
Another thing: it always gives me pause when I see products which have supposedly been in existence since the dawn of man, yet amazingly no one has heard of them. You know, ones like "Raphael's Toenail Tonic" or "Trenton Tom's Backwater Soda Pop." These are the guys that proudly broadcast their longevity on the label with phrases like "Since 1543," "Family Owned and Operated Since 1102," or "The Trusted Name in Ear Lobe Ointments Since 5,648 B.C."
Now, I'm all for the little guy and privately owned small businesses. Not every cookie (for example) has to be tasteless mega-conglomerate paperboard like Chips Ahoy! On the other hand, doesn't it strike you as a little curious that some dude's family has been making anise flavored tea biscuits since before the Salem witch trials and yet they've remained relatively anonymous? Wouldn't an impressive feat like that seem to demand some national attention?
How have they managed to fly under the radar so long? Is there a cookie conspiracy with "Big Cookie" operatives who systematically eliminate anyone who threatens to bring "Andy's Anise Delights" to the masses? Are the owners of Andy's consciously keeping their business "small" and resisting larger forms of distribution, or do their cookies just suck? Most small businesses are lucky to last a year or two, and yet somehow the unknown biscuit guys from Hoboken have been semi-flourishing for half a millenium. How does that work?
And don't forget the obligatory, self-congratulatory "Our Story" which has to appear on the back of EVERY single organic, "homemade" product out there, with the squiggly lines that look like they were drawn by a two year old riding a bronco and the half-ass pictures of cows strewn throughout the borders. Nevermind that we've got cows on a bag of licorice or a jar of coconut oil. Cows are organisms, you know, and therefore "organic."
Is it possible, and I know this is a crazy thought, that some of these companies aren't quite as small, folksy, and "quaint" as the packaging would suggest? Is it possible that some of the "organic" imaging is just a little bit cynical and calculated? Are all these companies really motivated by "lifting your spirits and purifying your mind?" More to the point, can the "down home community values" embodied by such products exist comfortably with the capitalist/consumer mentality and the demands of being a publicly traded company in corporate America?
Hey, I just ask the questions; I don't have the answers, folks.
* These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration, because they can't hear anything lodged way up Big Pharma's backside.
First of all, does every stray herb, mineral, plant, fruit, vine, weed, berry, thorn, bacteria, bean, and clump of dirt to ever grace Gaea’s green earth have "miraculous" healing properties that some remote tribe has utilized for "thousands of years?" It seems that even the ones that look like they could kill you deader than my site traffic (stinging nettle, anyone?) possess amazing "regenerative and healing" properties. Wow! Fancy that.
You would THINK there would be at least one or two herbs that just f*ck your ass up and don’t have much to recommend them, but health food stores give me the distinct impression that every herb does something beneficial, if you look hard enough. What, none of them are just inert? You know, they don’t do a damn thing one way or the other? Apparently not. I think when all else fails, they just slap the old "refreshes your spirits" on the label. I normally leave that to my bartender, but hey, who can argue with "refreshes your spirits?"
Also, why is it always "thousands of years" of health benefits? I guess "cooked up by our marketing team a few weeks ago" just doesn’t have the same ring to it. Can’t you just see the research team at Eden’s Natural Garden of Bountiful Organic Harvest coming up with their latest "miraculous" product? "
*************************************************************
R&D Guy 1: Hey, what the hell are these berries?
R&D Guy 2: I don’t know, but they taste like ass.
R&D Guy 3: That means they’re bursting with anti-oxidizing properties.
R&D Guy 2: Tastes more like pro-ass-tasting properties.
R&D Guy 1: If this is anti-oxidizing, I am definitely pro-oxidation. Go oxidation!
R&D Guy 4: Those are heineyassa berries. They’re extremely rare.
R&D 1: Thank god.
R&D 2: So what do they do?
R&D 3: Well, nothing is proven, but several studies suggest heineyassa berries may increase the tensile strength of one’s nostril hair by as much as 3 percent.
R&D 4: Ok, it’s not much, but I guess we can work with it. What kind of dosage are we talking in order to achieve the desired effect?
R&D 3: Six hundred and sixty eight billion grams a day.
R&D 2: Six hundred and sixty eight billion grams!!!
R&D 3: Roughly equivalent to filling a ’73 Gremlin with heineyassa berries. Including the trunk. And the glove compartment. Maybe a couple strapped on the hood.
R&D 4: *Sigh* Well, can we do a concentrated form? You know, one one of those nasty drinks that never mixes properly?
R&D 1: You mean the ones that leave a mound of purple sludge at the bottom of the glass, even if you stir it until your arm comes out of its socket? And then you have to take our overpriced glucosmaine supplements until your arm heals?
R&D 4: Yeah, those.
R&D 3: We could do that. Then you’d only have to drink about 2 oil drums of heineyassa juice a day. However, you WILL have the strongest, thickest, and most manageable nose hair on the block.
R&D 2: By 3 percent.
R&D 1: Literally by a nose hair.
R&D 3: One other problem: They’re grown in Florida.
R&D 2: So?
R&D 4: Yeah, that’s bad. Florida is too pedestrian. We need to come up with some exotic sounding locale where the natives are shrouded in a mystical aura simply because they’re not American.
R&D 2: People who wouldn’t be caught dead eating heineyassa berries, but can be safely exploited from a distance.
R&D 1: Right, and make sure the label has a lot of "spiritual" looking symbols like birds and people dancing. Or some crap like that. I’m telling ya, people eat that sh*t up.
R&D 2: They sure do. Hell, if they’ll eat heineyassa berries they’ll eat anything.
(Everyone laughs as they pile into an SUV and then drive over to McDonald's for Big Macs. With extra large fries.)
*************************************************************
Can't you just see it? Can't you? Huhn? What do you mean "No?" Ah, go eat some heineyassa berries, why doncha.
Another thing: it always gives me pause when I see products which have supposedly been in existence since the dawn of man, yet amazingly no one has heard of them. You know, ones like "Raphael's Toenail Tonic" or "Trenton Tom's Backwater Soda Pop." These are the guys that proudly broadcast their longevity on the label with phrases like "Since 1543," "Family Owned and Operated Since 1102," or "The Trusted Name in Ear Lobe Ointments Since 5,648 B.C."
Now, I'm all for the little guy and privately owned small businesses. Not every cookie (for example) has to be tasteless mega-conglomerate paperboard like Chips Ahoy! On the other hand, doesn't it strike you as a little curious that some dude's family has been making anise flavored tea biscuits since before the Salem witch trials and yet they've remained relatively anonymous? Wouldn't an impressive feat like that seem to demand some national attention?
How have they managed to fly under the radar so long? Is there a cookie conspiracy with "Big Cookie" operatives who systematically eliminate anyone who threatens to bring "Andy's Anise Delights" to the masses? Are the owners of Andy's consciously keeping their business "small" and resisting larger forms of distribution, or do their cookies just suck? Most small businesses are lucky to last a year or two, and yet somehow the unknown biscuit guys from Hoboken have been semi-flourishing for half a millenium. How does that work?
And don't forget the obligatory, self-congratulatory "Our Story" which has to appear on the back of EVERY single organic, "homemade" product out there, with the squiggly lines that look like they were drawn by a two year old riding a bronco and the half-ass pictures of cows strewn throughout the borders. Nevermind that we've got cows on a bag of licorice or a jar of coconut oil. Cows are organisms, you know, and therefore "organic."
Is it possible, and I know this is a crazy thought, that some of these companies aren't quite as small, folksy, and "quaint" as the packaging would suggest? Is it possible that some of the "organic" imaging is just a little bit cynical and calculated? Are all these companies really motivated by "lifting your spirits and purifying your mind?" More to the point, can the "down home community values" embodied by such products exist comfortably with the capitalist/consumer mentality and the demands of being a publicly traded company in corporate America?
Hey, I just ask the questions; I don't have the answers, folks.
* These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration, because they can't hear anything lodged way up Big Pharma's backside.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
For Immediate Release: VH1 Debuts "I Love the First Couple of Days of 2008"
Perez Hilton, Tila Tequila, Sanjaya Malakar, that guy you once saw on Comedy Central at 4:25 in the morning, and Kathy Griffin are just a handful of the mega-superstars on hand this weekend as VH1 takes a nostalgic look back at 2008: the first two days that were.
Yes, it's all here... the highs! The lows! The low-lifes getting high! VH1 is the place to be this weekend, rather than actually going out and experiencing LIFE, for god's sake.
Who could forget the time Ryan Seacrest (doing his best imitation of a man not itching for Dick Clark to pass on) introduced The Plain White T's, who, shockingly, chose to perform "Hey There Delilah" on Dick Clark's rockin' New Year's Eve? And who could forget the man who shot himself in the head immediately thereafter, mumbling something onlookers believed to be, "Not again, not again?"
Likewise, who could forget that classic-moment when "New York" of "Flavor of Love" held her very own January 2nd special to look back on the "I Love New York" reunion show from January 1st? You'll thrill to New York's fond recollection of the precise moment she found true love for the fourth time this season.
That's right, all your favorite celebrity moments from early-early-early 2008 come flooding back this weekend... so get your ark ready! After all, who doesn't get misty recalling the 905th time we ran a feature about Lindsey losing a dangerous amount of weight, immediately followed by our 906th "ultra-scalding hot-supermodel" swimsuit preview! And who doesn't get choked up remembering the time Britney smacked right into a stop sign... while walking?
Of course, it's hard to forget these things when we run clips of them 98 times a day under the flimsy pretense of "mocking them," but JUST IN CASE you had a mild stroke and lost some valuable celebrity-devoted neurons, here they are again, in all our painfully unaware self-aware glory!
Plus, we'll be featuring some awesome clips of the Republican candidates on the campaign trail in Iowa this week. During the clips, our retro-licious hosts will make some disparaging comments about the candidates' clothes, or their sex lives, or something else completely irrelevant to politics, because it's all the same anyway, right? Never let it be said VH1 isn't doing its part to reduce everything in this ADD-addled society to roughly the same post-modern status, where a potential leader of America might as well be the guy who sang "Chocolate Rain."
Yes, you'll get it all... the snide comments! The derision! The irony! The easy-reaches! The thinly veiled contempt! Or, as we like to call it, "affectionate nostalgia." For two solid hours, you'll hear celebrities get a good roasting from grade-A superstars like the chick who came in third on Survivor! You know, the type of person who will undoubtedly command awe and reverence when we look back on 2008 twenty years from now.
VH1: I LOVE THE FIRST COUPLE OF DAYS OF 2008 premieres this Saturday night, immediately followed by the 100 most crotchiest-crotch-shots of 2007! Check your local listings for more info. (Cemetery listings, that is. You'll definitely want to off yourself after watching this one.)
Yes, it's all here... the highs! The lows! The low-lifes getting high! VH1 is the place to be this weekend, rather than actually going out and experiencing LIFE, for god's sake.
Who could forget the time Ryan Seacrest (doing his best imitation of a man not itching for Dick Clark to pass on) introduced The Plain White T's, who, shockingly, chose to perform "Hey There Delilah" on Dick Clark's rockin' New Year's Eve? And who could forget the man who shot himself in the head immediately thereafter, mumbling something onlookers believed to be, "Not again, not again?"
Likewise, who could forget that classic-moment when "New York" of "Flavor of Love" held her very own January 2nd special to look back on the "I Love New York" reunion show from January 1st? You'll thrill to New York's fond recollection of the precise moment she found true love for the fourth time this season.
That's right, all your favorite celebrity moments from early-early-early 2008 come flooding back this weekend... so get your ark ready! After all, who doesn't get misty recalling the 905th time we ran a feature about Lindsey losing a dangerous amount of weight, immediately followed by our 906th "ultra-scalding hot-supermodel" swimsuit preview! And who doesn't get choked up remembering the time Britney smacked right into a stop sign... while walking?
Of course, it's hard to forget these things when we run clips of them 98 times a day under the flimsy pretense of "mocking them," but JUST IN CASE you had a mild stroke and lost some valuable celebrity-devoted neurons, here they are again, in all our painfully unaware self-aware glory!
Plus, we'll be featuring some awesome clips of the Republican candidates on the campaign trail in Iowa this week. During the clips, our retro-licious hosts will make some disparaging comments about the candidates' clothes, or their sex lives, or something else completely irrelevant to politics, because it's all the same anyway, right? Never let it be said VH1 isn't doing its part to reduce everything in this ADD-addled society to roughly the same post-modern status, where a potential leader of America might as well be the guy who sang "Chocolate Rain."
Yes, you'll get it all... the snide comments! The derision! The irony! The easy-reaches! The thinly veiled contempt! Or, as we like to call it, "affectionate nostalgia." For two solid hours, you'll hear celebrities get a good roasting from grade-A superstars like the chick who came in third on Survivor! You know, the type of person who will undoubtedly command awe and reverence when we look back on 2008 twenty years from now.
VH1: I LOVE THE FIRST COUPLE OF DAYS OF 2008 premieres this Saturday night, immediately followed by the 100 most crotchiest-crotch-shots of 2007! Check your local listings for more info. (Cemetery listings, that is. You'll definitely want to off yourself after watching this one.)
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Starbucks Mints Better Be Made Out of Gold
AKA: What's It All About, Owlzie?
The Nite Owlz All Night Blog Spot has been open about a month now, and a lot of people (read: my mom) keep e-mailing and asking, "What the heck is this place? And when are you going to get your junk out of my basement?" Well, I'd like to take this opportunity not to clear up any confusion about the nature of this blog, nor to make arrangements for removing junk from my mom's house, but rather to whore myself and engage in a little shameless branding, all under the transparent guise of savagely satirizing those very same behaviors in corporate America. Cool how that works, huhn?
With that in mind, I'd like to extend a warm Nite Owlz welcome to everyone out there, and kindly ask you to think of us as your newest, and favorite-ist, coffee house. That is, a place to hang out, sup on some overpriced java, and get a little reading done. Since the internet offers unlimited access from almost anywhere in the world, we're now available in ALMOST as many places as real, free-standing Starbucks stores. So, the next time you're in "town" be sure to come on in and get yourself an inhumanly hot cup of overflowing coffee, even though I actually serve nothing of the kind, and offer no real means of getting any. (This is theater of the mind, folks! Go with it!)
Like all trendy coffeehouses, be sure to plop down in one of our big comfy chairs next to the other "customers," and try to look all bohemian and interested in what you're reading just in case that cute number from up the street comes sauntering in the door. For God's sake, you don't want her/him to think you actually couldn't care less about Nietzsche, and have really been thinking about getting splash-wild with her/him all day??!!! Try to look intellectual for once in your life, will ya??? Have another double-espresso-vanilla-mocha-almond-assante-twist-latte and bury your nose in whatever you're reading. If you have to look, try not to take more than six furtive glances a minute and act like you're contemplating the price of a nutmeg and stinging nettle frappuccino. Pretend you really ARE grooving to the pretentious Elliot-Smith-rip-off mewling in the overhead speakers. You know, the music that's so "indie" it's only playing in 98 percent of the corporate coffee chains throughout the country.
While you're here, be sure to check out our oversized stuffed toy owls and gargantuan "Nite Owlz" coffee mugs (large enough to hold six days' worth of coffee). Then, on your way out, you can purchase some eight dollar breath mints. Sure, you COULD get the same mints for about 50 cents at the corner grocery store. But hey! These are in a snazzy little tin with a Fleur-de-lis pattern, and it sort of looks like an antiquated snuff box from England. After all, everybody knows that anything from England automatically confers "style" and "class" upon the owner, even if he's just a bad-breathed schlub who likes over-priced coffee!
So get with it! Stop standing outside in the cold. Come on in, check out my latest ramblings, leave a comment or two, and while you're at it, try to figure out if that nine dollar cup of coffee is SUPPOSED to taste like the burnt underside of a rusted diesel engine, or if you're just too bourgeois to appreciate true gourmet excellence.
I should point out, however, I don't have internet access here at the Nite Owlz all night blog spot. I did for awhile, but everyone kept logging on and going to some OTHER dude's coffeehouse while sitting in MY coffeehouse! I'm sorry, but I find that a bit disrespectful.
Have fun!
Nite Owl
The Nite Owlz All Night Blog Spot has been open about a month now, and a lot of people (read: my mom) keep e-mailing and asking, "What the heck is this place? And when are you going to get your junk out of my basement?" Well, I'd like to take this opportunity not to clear up any confusion about the nature of this blog, nor to make arrangements for removing junk from my mom's house, but rather to whore myself and engage in a little shameless branding, all under the transparent guise of savagely satirizing those very same behaviors in corporate America. Cool how that works, huhn?
With that in mind, I'd like to extend a warm Nite Owlz welcome to everyone out there, and kindly ask you to think of us as your newest, and favorite-ist, coffee house. That is, a place to hang out, sup on some overpriced java, and get a little reading done. Since the internet offers unlimited access from almost anywhere in the world, we're now available in ALMOST as many places as real, free-standing Starbucks stores. So, the next time you're in "town" be sure to come on in and get yourself an inhumanly hot cup of overflowing coffee, even though I actually serve nothing of the kind, and offer no real means of getting any. (This is theater of the mind, folks! Go with it!)
Like all trendy coffeehouses, be sure to plop down in one of our big comfy chairs next to the other "customers," and try to look all bohemian and interested in what you're reading just in case that cute number from up the street comes sauntering in the door. For God's sake, you don't want her/him to think you actually couldn't care less about Nietzsche, and have really been thinking about getting splash-wild with her/him all day??!!! Try to look intellectual for once in your life, will ya??? Have another double-espresso-vanilla-mocha-almond-assante-twist-latte and bury your nose in whatever you're reading. If you have to look, try not to take more than six furtive glances a minute and act like you're contemplating the price of a nutmeg and stinging nettle frappuccino. Pretend you really ARE grooving to the pretentious Elliot-Smith-rip-off mewling in the overhead speakers. You know, the music that's so "indie" it's only playing in 98 percent of the corporate coffee chains throughout the country.
While you're here, be sure to check out our oversized stuffed toy owls and gargantuan "Nite Owlz" coffee mugs (large enough to hold six days' worth of coffee). Then, on your way out, you can purchase some eight dollar breath mints. Sure, you COULD get the same mints for about 50 cents at the corner grocery store. But hey! These are in a snazzy little tin with a Fleur-de-lis pattern, and it sort of looks like an antiquated snuff box from England. After all, everybody knows that anything from England automatically confers "style" and "class" upon the owner, even if he's just a bad-breathed schlub who likes over-priced coffee!
So get with it! Stop standing outside in the cold. Come on in, check out my latest ramblings, leave a comment or two, and while you're at it, try to figure out if that nine dollar cup of coffee is SUPPOSED to taste like the burnt underside of a rusted diesel engine, or if you're just too bourgeois to appreciate true gourmet excellence.
I should point out, however, I don't have internet access here at the Nite Owlz all night blog spot. I did for awhile, but everyone kept logging on and going to some OTHER dude's coffeehouse while sitting in MY coffeehouse! I'm sorry, but I find that a bit disrespectful.
Have fun!
Nite Owl
Monday, November 19, 2007
The Rolling Stones Super Computer
Hey there rock and roll fans! It's the year 2007, and technology has come so far that computers can now accurately predict (or create) the content on the next Rolling Stones album, which we hope will materialize sometime in 2008. We have correlated all the available data and fed vinyl copies of every Stones album into the NITE OWLZ BLOG SPOT PATENTED ROLLING STONES TITLE GENERATOR, and the results are available below. Remember, the computer has an 87 percent accuracy rate, so these ARE the tunes you will be grooving to come next year, or whenever the Stones get off their saggy old asses and make a new CD! Enjoy!
Track One: "Brawl Until Dawn"
For the leadoff track on the new CD, our Rolling Stones supercomputer randomly combines a series of phrases with subtle and not-so-subtle references to violence, some intertwined with sex. The result is this hot new single, "Brawl Until Dawn," that also helps perpetuate the "street fighting" image of the Stones, even if Mick hasn't been in a real fight since 1971, unless you count all the times Jerry Hall beat his ass before he walked out on her. Note: This will be the album's token "feisty rocker."
Track Two: "Hit That!"
To generate the second single, "Hit That," the computer uses the same alogarithm as "Brawl," but also includes the obligatory attempt at aping recent urban trends and lingo, even ones that are falling out of favor as we speak. The song will contain a funky bass line, and possibly a "hip hop" section, which will come across as awkward and forced as Paula Abdul trying not to slur her words on "American Idol."
Track Three: "Stairwell of Good-byes"
The computer slows down the tempo a bit and spits out a "moody" ballad, based on some words Mick scribbled down on a cocktail napkin with four Brazilian model's phone numbers written on the back.
Track Four: "Roll It When U Rock"
This is the token "bluesy" Keith Richards number, that the computer predicts will somehow be indistinguishable from the LAST ten "Take It So Hard" clones. The title doesn't mean much, but still seems shockingly coherent when compared to Keith's usual booze-addled ramblings.
Track Five: "Vegas Virgins"
Despite the weak alliteration, our computer is predicting a Stones trifecta: money, sex, and a "hot" topical tourist attraction. This will be one of those Stones songs that seems to highlight Mick's social conscience, by focusing on runaways and prostitution in sin city. However, the computer wisely deletes any mention of how the Stones have blithely fostered a climate of misogyny, sexism, and moral decadence in American pop culture for five decades straight. The hypocrisy bar will be raised a little higher when the song blares prominently in a future "what happens in Vegas" ad that features a smiling Mick driving to a chicken ranch.
Track Six: "Devil's in the Details"
The computer foresees a mandatory "satanic" Stones song, trotted out once again in an effort to milk whatever stimulus-response reactionaryism remains in the three people whose sense of propriety was seriously imperiled by the unholy sight of the band wearing wizard costumes way back in 1967. Listen for the slinky rhythm track on this one, which is supposed to represent...er, something.
Track Seven: "Slutty Little Thang"
In the Stones catalog, "sluts" is one of the few heretofore infrequently used derogatory terms for women. Well, the computer definitely feels the need to remedy that situation pronto! Look for this toe-tapper on the new CD, but don't expect too much subsequent controversy, since worse language regularly appears at 7pm on ABC family channel these days.
Track Eight: "She Knox Me Out"
This one's bound to sound bluesy. And violent. And sexy. Whatever. It's gonna be a filler track anyway, probably using yet another watered-down version of the "Brown Sugar" riff, so don't sweat it. Lord knows they won't.
Track Nine: "Dancin' Down on South Street"
While running a systems scan, the computer spews out the requisite "dance" reference that appears on every other Stones album. As a double bonus, the title generator alludes to a "gritty" well-known city (in this case, Philadelphia) that also has a long-standing connection to music or the music industry. This will help reestablish the band's "street cred" for the 459th time (on this album alone). Of course, there will be no lyrics that address getting shot because you're dancing like a damn fool in the middle of a city street at four in the morning.
Track Ten: "My Bad"
A couple of minutes have gone by without The Stones reminding us they're the "bad boys" of rock, even though Mick and Keith are old enough now to actually play "The Sunshine Boys" without stretching credibility. As a result, the computer tosses out this little nugget consisting primarily of Mick mumbling in his "evil but seductive" voice while Keith plunders a couple of dead blues guys' riffs in the background. Sadly, Mick's "seductive" voice sounds really creepy at this stage of the game, sounding like an unholy hybrid of your drunk uncle talking up your new girlfriend and a Star Trek ensign possessed by the Lights of Zatar. The song runs upwards of 7 minutes in an effort to make us think we're getting a lot of value for our money, since the CD's total running time reads 74 minutes when we plop it in the player. However, this glosses over the fact that at least 30 minutes of this disc, including this track, is grade-z padding and will ultimately be programmed right out of existence on future listens by everyone. Everyone, that is, except for that one mustachioed fat guy who shows up for every Stones concert wearing his "emotional rescue" t-shirt, even though it faded from black to slate gray about 15 years ago and fits so tightly he looks like one of those impossibly red holiday gift basket sausages.
Track Eleven: "Blood Brothers"
More social consciousness, this time focusing on issues such as war and homelessness. The Rolling Stones super computer tells us this song will be a hodgepodge of half-formed political observations and leftover 60's Utopianism designed to convince the average listener that Mick thinks about something other than champagne and women's body parts from time to time. Basically, "Blood Brothers" is an attempt to maintain the Stones "everyman" appeal by giving off the impression that Mick and Keith can "relate" to and "care" about what happens to the average joe on the streets, even though Mick spends more in one night tipping strippers than the average worker makes in two years at Walmart. If the average fan had to confront this reality on a regular basis, his head might explode. Among the more affluent Stones fans, the Wall Street demi-demons and corporate whores will spend 2000 dollars for front row seats on opening night, and then sing along with this anthemic song of solidarity and humanism louder than anyone, pumping their drunken fists in the air. Afterwards, they'll call the cops on the Vietnam vet who asks them for some spare change as they run to their rented limo's outside MSG.
Track Twelve: "Into the Fading Twilight"
Our computer anticipates there will be one, last "heartfelt" opus on the new Rolling Stones album. This is somehow intended to deflect attention from the fact that Mick and Keith's emotional growth has been stunted since 1963 or so. Despite that, the computer effectively draws upon the rich reservoir of philosophical insights that can only be gleaned from a lifetime of self-indulgent behavior and reckless substance abuse. The result is a beautiful tapestry of musical self-reflection which weaves together sentimental and novel rhymes like "real/feel," "fears/tears," "long/strong," and "bitch/scratch this itch." Guaranteed to be a real tear-jerker and a future "classic," the Stones will be signing a 5 million dollar endorsement with BIC in an effort to cash in on all the lighters which are sure to go off during this song's live performance. For added measure, the lighters will have the Stones "lips and tongue" logo emblazoned on them. However, in a conscious effort to remain hip and edgy in the year 2008, a machine gun will protrude from the Rolling Stones "lips" and point directly at a nun's groin.
There you have it... 12 tracks coming soon from the Rolling Stones. Now, be honest. Would it REALLY surprise you if the computer got these right???
Track One: "Brawl Until Dawn"
For the leadoff track on the new CD, our Rolling Stones supercomputer randomly combines a series of phrases with subtle and not-so-subtle references to violence, some intertwined with sex. The result is this hot new single, "Brawl Until Dawn," that also helps perpetuate the "street fighting" image of the Stones, even if Mick hasn't been in a real fight since 1971, unless you count all the times Jerry Hall beat his ass before he walked out on her. Note: This will be the album's token "feisty rocker."
Track Two: "Hit That!"
To generate the second single, "Hit That," the computer uses the same alogarithm as "Brawl," but also includes the obligatory attempt at aping recent urban trends and lingo, even ones that are falling out of favor as we speak. The song will contain a funky bass line, and possibly a "hip hop" section, which will come across as awkward and forced as Paula Abdul trying not to slur her words on "American Idol."
Track Three: "Stairwell of Good-byes"
The computer slows down the tempo a bit and spits out a "moody" ballad, based on some words Mick scribbled down on a cocktail napkin with four Brazilian model's phone numbers written on the back.
Track Four: "Roll It When U Rock"
This is the token "bluesy" Keith Richards number, that the computer predicts will somehow be indistinguishable from the LAST ten "Take It So Hard" clones. The title doesn't mean much, but still seems shockingly coherent when compared to Keith's usual booze-addled ramblings.
Track Five: "Vegas Virgins"
Despite the weak alliteration, our computer is predicting a Stones trifecta: money, sex, and a "hot" topical tourist attraction. This will be one of those Stones songs that seems to highlight Mick's social conscience, by focusing on runaways and prostitution in sin city. However, the computer wisely deletes any mention of how the Stones have blithely fostered a climate of misogyny, sexism, and moral decadence in American pop culture for five decades straight. The hypocrisy bar will be raised a little higher when the song blares prominently in a future "what happens in Vegas" ad that features a smiling Mick driving to a chicken ranch.
Track Six: "Devil's in the Details"
The computer foresees a mandatory "satanic" Stones song, trotted out once again in an effort to milk whatever stimulus-response reactionaryism remains in the three people whose sense of propriety was seriously imperiled by the unholy sight of the band wearing wizard costumes way back in 1967. Listen for the slinky rhythm track on this one, which is supposed to represent...er, something.
Track Seven: "Slutty Little Thang"
In the Stones catalog, "sluts" is one of the few heretofore infrequently used derogatory terms for women. Well, the computer definitely feels the need to remedy that situation pronto! Look for this toe-tapper on the new CD, but don't expect too much subsequent controversy, since worse language regularly appears at 7pm on ABC family channel these days.
Track Eight: "She Knox Me Out"
This one's bound to sound bluesy. And violent. And sexy. Whatever. It's gonna be a filler track anyway, probably using yet another watered-down version of the "Brown Sugar" riff, so don't sweat it. Lord knows they won't.
Track Nine: "Dancin' Down on South Street"
While running a systems scan, the computer spews out the requisite "dance" reference that appears on every other Stones album. As a double bonus, the title generator alludes to a "gritty" well-known city (in this case, Philadelphia) that also has a long-standing connection to music or the music industry. This will help reestablish the band's "street cred" for the 459th time (on this album alone). Of course, there will be no lyrics that address getting shot because you're dancing like a damn fool in the middle of a city street at four in the morning.
Track Ten: "My Bad"
A couple of minutes have gone by without The Stones reminding us they're the "bad boys" of rock, even though Mick and Keith are old enough now to actually play "The Sunshine Boys" without stretching credibility. As a result, the computer tosses out this little nugget consisting primarily of Mick mumbling in his "evil but seductive" voice while Keith plunders a couple of dead blues guys' riffs in the background. Sadly, Mick's "seductive" voice sounds really creepy at this stage of the game, sounding like an unholy hybrid of your drunk uncle talking up your new girlfriend and a Star Trek ensign possessed by the Lights of Zatar. The song runs upwards of 7 minutes in an effort to make us think we're getting a lot of value for our money, since the CD's total running time reads 74 minutes when we plop it in the player. However, this glosses over the fact that at least 30 minutes of this disc, including this track, is grade-z padding and will ultimately be programmed right out of existence on future listens by everyone. Everyone, that is, except for that one mustachioed fat guy who shows up for every Stones concert wearing his "emotional rescue" t-shirt, even though it faded from black to slate gray about 15 years ago and fits so tightly he looks like one of those impossibly red holiday gift basket sausages.
Track Eleven: "Blood Brothers"
More social consciousness, this time focusing on issues such as war and homelessness. The Rolling Stones super computer tells us this song will be a hodgepodge of half-formed political observations and leftover 60's Utopianism designed to convince the average listener that Mick thinks about something other than champagne and women's body parts from time to time. Basically, "Blood Brothers" is an attempt to maintain the Stones "everyman" appeal by giving off the impression that Mick and Keith can "relate" to and "care" about what happens to the average joe on the streets, even though Mick spends more in one night tipping strippers than the average worker makes in two years at Walmart. If the average fan had to confront this reality on a regular basis, his head might explode. Among the more affluent Stones fans, the Wall Street demi-demons and corporate whores will spend 2000 dollars for front row seats on opening night, and then sing along with this anthemic song of solidarity and humanism louder than anyone, pumping their drunken fists in the air. Afterwards, they'll call the cops on the Vietnam vet who asks them for some spare change as they run to their rented limo's outside MSG.
Track Twelve: "Into the Fading Twilight"
Our computer anticipates there will be one, last "heartfelt" opus on the new Rolling Stones album. This is somehow intended to deflect attention from the fact that Mick and Keith's emotional growth has been stunted since 1963 or so. Despite that, the computer effectively draws upon the rich reservoir of philosophical insights that can only be gleaned from a lifetime of self-indulgent behavior and reckless substance abuse. The result is a beautiful tapestry of musical self-reflection which weaves together sentimental and novel rhymes like "real/feel," "fears/tears," "long/strong," and "bitch/scratch this itch." Guaranteed to be a real tear-jerker and a future "classic," the Stones will be signing a 5 million dollar endorsement with BIC in an effort to cash in on all the lighters which are sure to go off during this song's live performance. For added measure, the lighters will have the Stones "lips and tongue" logo emblazoned on them. However, in a conscious effort to remain hip and edgy in the year 2008, a machine gun will protrude from the Rolling Stones "lips" and point directly at a nun's groin.
There you have it... 12 tracks coming soon from the Rolling Stones. Now, be honest. Would it REALLY surprise you if the computer got these right???
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
New York Quotes You'll Never Hear (Ever, Ever, Ever).
Ten quotes you can bet were never uttered in (or about) New York City:
10. "My, that's quite the ambrosian fragrance emanating from this corner street grate!"
9. "Hang on, let me take my ipod off and hang up the cell phone... I want to be able to focus on my surroundings in such hectic, chaotic surroundings."
8. "Oh, excuse me. I didn't mean to bump into you."
7. "You know what? We better TRIPLE check the (choose one) steam pipes/buildings/electricity/falling dumpsters. It would be REALLY bad if something went wrong, and we'd be responsible."
6. "Don't worry; we've got plenty of money to fix these problems!"
5. "You saw some rats in the storage room? Oh my god. We better close the restaurant IMMEDIATELY and call the exterminator!"
4. "Wow! What a bargain! We could rent TWO apartments!"
3. "Man, I honestly can't remember the last time I heard someone make a quasi-ironic or cynical, knowing comment!"
2. "I gotta tell ya, this overpriced coffee in cups designed for image-obsessed, unwitting corporate shills really tastes like ass! Let's just buy a cup at McDonald's!"
1. "You know, all these deep-rooted, irreparable problems have really made me reconsider my ill-advised romanticization of a city based on the fact I can get good pizza at three in the morning and I saw a catchy musical here when I was in college."
10. "My, that's quite the ambrosian fragrance emanating from this corner street grate!"
9. "Hang on, let me take my ipod off and hang up the cell phone... I want to be able to focus on my surroundings in such hectic, chaotic surroundings."
8. "Oh, excuse me. I didn't mean to bump into you."
7. "You know what? We better TRIPLE check the (choose one) steam pipes/buildings/electricity/falling dumpsters. It would be REALLY bad if something went wrong, and we'd be responsible."
6. "Don't worry; we've got plenty of money to fix these problems!"
5. "You saw some rats in the storage room? Oh my god. We better close the restaurant IMMEDIATELY and call the exterminator!"
4. "Wow! What a bargain! We could rent TWO apartments!"
3. "Man, I honestly can't remember the last time I heard someone make a quasi-ironic or cynical, knowing comment!"
2. "I gotta tell ya, this overpriced coffee in cups designed for image-obsessed, unwitting corporate shills really tastes like ass! Let's just buy a cup at McDonald's!"
1. "You know, all these deep-rooted, irreparable problems have really made me reconsider my ill-advised romanticization of a city based on the fact I can get good pizza at three in the morning and I saw a catchy musical here when I was in college."
Monday, November 12, 2007
And Now a Message from Our Sponsors, Big Pharma, Inc.
A friendly health reminder from your friends at Big Pharma, Inc.:
Do you sometimes find yourself closing your eyes for a split second repeatedly throughout the day? Do you often find yourself mindlessly and without conscious knowledge quickly opening and closing your eyes, sometimes up to 10 or 12 times a minute? If you answered yes, then you may have "Repetitive Shutting Eyelid Disorder" or RSED. This excessive, intrusive, life-disabling affliction can make you feel "less than whole," "imperfect," or like a "completely useless bastard," and rightfully so.
RSED can rapidly eat away at your quality of life. You'll watch every last vestige of hope fade from view, seen through the flickering and fluttering filter of your diseased eyelids. Eventually, in its final stages, your eyes will be closing up to 16 times per minute. This final stage - known as "blinking" – can actively interfere with your ability to traipse around with your grandchildren or go kayaking in the mountains, just like all those other folks in the big pharma ads. There is no cure for Repetitive-shutting-eyelid-disorder, but there is hope. Hope that there never is a cure, that is. Our hope, mainly.
Now there's BLINKEX. In clinical trials performed at "Bill's Tests R Us" people who were given Blinkex for 2 months blinked 92% less than people who didn't take Blinkex. Of course, the former group had to sleep in the same room as a group of brutal serial killers who were trying out an experimental new medicine, and the second group of test subjects was already dead. Ask your doctor if Blinkex is right for you, because Blinkex is not right for everyone, especially those who like breathing and have a certain fondness for being alive.
Side effects may include: itchiness, sore throat, watery eyes, liver spots, spots on your liver, runny nose, head bursting into flames, dry cough, sudden desire to rent "Glitter", flaky rash, internal bleeding, bloody stools, watery stools, bloody watery stools, bloody watery stools that burst into flames, dizziness, headaches, hair loss, toxic shock syndrome, paralysis, voting Republican, itchy balls, listening to Nickelback, tiredness, confusion, and/or alien growing in belly and then bursting out six weeks later.
Also, Blinkex causes a hormonal change in the body which will cause most adult human males to release a mating pheromone which, for unknown reasons, attracts large full grown black bears and drives them wild with carnal lust. If there's a male black bear within 50 miles, and you're taking Blinkex, trust us, he'll find you. Further side effects of Blinkex include dry mouth. Oh, and horny bears hate dry mouth. Just a heads up. Side effects are mild in some patients, but not most. BLINKEX….. Because there's so much to see out there!
Warning: Some patients who take Blinkex for an extended period of time develop “Dried-out-eye-syndrome” (DOES) and need to take TEAR-EX, about 586 times a day to keep their eyes properly saturated. Ask your big name pharmaceutical company if Tear-ex is right for you. (What the hell, cut out the doctor... he's just our bitch anyway.)
Do you sometimes find yourself closing your eyes for a split second repeatedly throughout the day? Do you often find yourself mindlessly and without conscious knowledge quickly opening and closing your eyes, sometimes up to 10 or 12 times a minute? If you answered yes, then you may have "Repetitive Shutting Eyelid Disorder" or RSED. This excessive, intrusive, life-disabling affliction can make you feel "less than whole," "imperfect," or like a "completely useless bastard," and rightfully so.
RSED can rapidly eat away at your quality of life. You'll watch every last vestige of hope fade from view, seen through the flickering and fluttering filter of your diseased eyelids. Eventually, in its final stages, your eyes will be closing up to 16 times per minute. This final stage - known as "blinking" – can actively interfere with your ability to traipse around with your grandchildren or go kayaking in the mountains, just like all those other folks in the big pharma ads. There is no cure for Repetitive-shutting-eyelid-disorder, but there is hope. Hope that there never is a cure, that is. Our hope, mainly.
Now there's BLINKEX. In clinical trials performed at "Bill's Tests R Us" people who were given Blinkex for 2 months blinked 92% less than people who didn't take Blinkex. Of course, the former group had to sleep in the same room as a group of brutal serial killers who were trying out an experimental new medicine, and the second group of test subjects was already dead. Ask your doctor if Blinkex is right for you, because Blinkex is not right for everyone, especially those who like breathing and have a certain fondness for being alive.
Side effects may include: itchiness, sore throat, watery eyes, liver spots, spots on your liver, runny nose, head bursting into flames, dry cough, sudden desire to rent "Glitter", flaky rash, internal bleeding, bloody stools, watery stools, bloody watery stools, bloody watery stools that burst into flames, dizziness, headaches, hair loss, toxic shock syndrome, paralysis, voting Republican, itchy balls, listening to Nickelback, tiredness, confusion, and/or alien growing in belly and then bursting out six weeks later.
Also, Blinkex causes a hormonal change in the body which will cause most adult human males to release a mating pheromone which, for unknown reasons, attracts large full grown black bears and drives them wild with carnal lust. If there's a male black bear within 50 miles, and you're taking Blinkex, trust us, he'll find you. Further side effects of Blinkex include dry mouth. Oh, and horny bears hate dry mouth. Just a heads up. Side effects are mild in some patients, but not most. BLINKEX….. Because there's so much to see out there!
Warning: Some patients who take Blinkex for an extended period of time develop “Dried-out-eye-syndrome” (DOES) and need to take TEAR-EX, about 586 times a day to keep their eyes properly saturated. Ask your big name pharmaceutical company if Tear-ex is right for you. (What the hell, cut out the doctor... he's just our bitch anyway.)
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