Well Said

Writer Steven Grant in his latest Permanent Damage column:

“I tend to hate my work for six months to a couple of years after it comes out, and warm up to it later. This is the sort of behavior that would make me a bad father.”

Amen to that.

Rob

Human Jell-o

I've been listening to Penn Jillette’s show fairly religiously (which he'd hate!) lately, and I he said something that just killed me as I was walking to work. I'm paraphrasing, but this is the jist:

"I think that with most couples who have threesomes, there's always room for Carrot Top."

Rob

V for Video

First of all, V for Vendetta was terrific. See it see it see it.

It's good enough that I don't want to spoil things for anyone. Instead, I want to propose (or predict) a project.

Probably this won't be possible until the DVD comes out, but the availablity of footage always surprises me, so who knows?

One of my favorite sequences in the Moore/Lloyd comic was a chapter called "The Vicious Cabaret." The narration is the lyrics to a song of the same name, the notes of which are provided. The sequence checks in on the plot's many characters as the song descibes their predicaments and reinforces the overall theme. It's awesome -- not just for its storytelling effect, but also as an example of the new approaches Moore was bringing to the comics medium.

Unfortunately, comics are a silent menium. But film's another matter entirely. I'd love to see a fan film that reedits footage from the movie and sets it to the "Vicious Cabaret" music. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if it isn't already planned for the DVD. But if it's not there, that doesn't mean it can't be done. With today's editing software, arranging, playing and recording the music is really the hard part. And, I have to stress, it would be wicked cool.

Rob

Whither Blogpatrol?

My counter's gone AWOL, and Blogpatrol's homepage is acting wonky. Things'll probably sort themselves out, but does anyone know what's going on?

Rob

Another Round

Mark Evanier has posted another round of There's No Such Website. This time he amps it up to nine possibilities. I'm proud to say I got it in one.

Rob

Carnival Time

The Carnival of NJ Bloggers has once again staked its tent at Sharon's The Center of NJ Life. Swing by by and have some funnel cake. Or zeppoli. Or fry your dough any way you please -- it's all good.

Rob

Garfield the Cat

...as opposed to the tubby little fuzzy human.

Here's the premise: In the Garfield comic strip, Garfield speaks only in thought balloons. Which means that Jon can't hear him. Some folks on a message board have taken away Garfield's thought balloons, putting the whole strip in a different perspective. It's about a sad, lonely man who talks to his cat. Who hates him.

Enjoy!

Rob

Ssssssssssss

It's finally here: The Snakes on a Plane trailer! And it's refreshingly spoiler-free. Just one line, then on to the snakes! On a plane!

Rob
("I've had it with these snakes!")

In a world...

Mark Evanier points out another great voiceover vid, which is actually a trailer for a movie I've long intended to see.

Rob

Call for Tunes

So...

I'm writing a novel. I've decided to set the juvie nonfiction aside for a bit and dig my heels in and see what I can create out of my own sorry head.

Idiot that I am, I'm not making it easy on myself. Part of the novel is set in the 20s, an ear I thought I knew somehting about until I tried to set a scene there and was continually flummoxed by little details that could mean a great deal to the plot. So now I've got a book to read about everyday life in the era, to give me some sort of grounding there.

The other thing I need is jazz. These 1920s pages need to fizz like illegal champagne, and I'd like a soundtrack to write by. Do any of you have or know of any good collections of music from the 1920s? Soundtracks of movies set in the '20s? If you do, let me know. It's a whole different world I'm looking back on, and I want to know what it sounds like.

Rob

Offered Without Comment

Click Here.

Rob

Peace Through Slugfests

The first issue of Spectacular Spider-Man published in Arabic (by Teshkeel) has finally been released. This may not be the stuff that ends wars, but it’s exactly the kind of thing that makes peace last. When we’re entertained by the same things, we tend not to beat the tar out of each other.

Here’s the link.

Rob

Eye of the Beholder

Atrios on V for Vendetta:

"Anyway, I haven't actually seen the movie, but if a movie about a fascist tyranny has people freaking out because they view it as a critique of the Bush administration I think that says more about their own view of the administration than the filmmakers'."

Rob

Up the Academy

Wow.

I didn’t realize grapes even got that sour.

Rob

Do Not Call

Something just occurred to me: I’d always been taught that “Taking the Lord’s name in vain” is saying “God damn this” or exclaiming “Jesus Bellydancin’ Christ!” when you’re surprised. But isn’t publicly thanking Jesus for inconsequential stuff (like, say, a touchdown) also taking his name in vain? I think everyone who thanks Jesus for crap Jesus doesn’t care about should get an short but immediate cell-phone call from JC, saying “Lose my number, dickhead.” Is there a substantive difference between “Thou shalt not take My name in vain” and “Thou shalt not IM Me every 30 fucking seconds with thanks whenever you have a particularly satisfying bowel movement?”

I know, I know – I’d make a lousy savior.

Rob

Poof! It's Gone!

I decided to take down my last post. Upon reflection, making fun of someone's profession of faith -- no matter how oxymoronic -- strikes me as meaner than I want to be. Maybe I'll think about it a little more and revise it. Maybe I'll think about it a little more and not post at all. Or maybe I'll forget about it by the time I reach the train. One way or another, though, I think it's worth a little more effort than a simple off-the-cuff dimissal.

Rob

Doubled My Pleasure

Talking Points Memo uncovers more Repug evil twinniness!

Rob

Double Trouble

Who cut the arm off the voodoo doll
That resembles a Republican president from long ago
I'd hate to see you leave
'Cause I have grown so grateful for the
Blame you save me from
—“My Evil Twin,” They Might Be Giants

A new wrinkle in the Case of the Shoplifting Presidential Advisor. It’s a ridiculous notion, and very, very unlikely, but I have to admit that I’m crossing my fingers that this is true. I honestly would rather have this kind of weirdness in the world than yet another black eye for the Bush regime. In a world with evil twins, can the chupacabra be far behind?

Rob

Balls-out

I've been listeing to Penn Jillette's show on FreeFM a lot lately, and one of the recurring topics has been a juggling routine by Chris Bliss. For his finale, Bliss juggles three balls for the entirety of The Beatles' "The End" off of Abbey Road. To non-jugglers, it looks pretty impressive, and sometimes seems like it's timed with the music.

Penn felt differently, and asked his friend, hard-core professional juggler Jason Garfield, to replicate Bliss's routine with five balls. And man, is it better. Not only is Garfield keeping more balls in the air, but he looks like he has more control over his five than Bliss has over his three.

You can see both videos at YouTube. I recommend watching Bliss's routine first, because I can't imagine it'll be much fun after you see him get completely schooled by Garfield (in Bliss Diss). (I also recommend seeing them soon -- these are getting more attention, and I doubt either of them has the rights to the music, so they could be pulled at any time. You can also read Garfield's comments on the Bliss routine here.

I love that I can listen to people talk about juggling on the radio.

Rob

M for Moore

There's an feature on Alan Moore about his stormy relationship with DC Comics and Warner Bros. at the New York Times. Read it quick, before it falls behind the NYT's Iron Curtain of Time.

"I am what Harry Potter grew up into," he said, "and it's not a pretty sight."

Rob

Yee-hah!

It's Carnival time again, and Jersey Goddess is making sure you're tall enough to get into the Moon Bounce. Boing!

ROb

Now Even Bigger Love!

I updated my post on Big Love since it's been linked to (full disclosure: I did it myself) in the comments of this Political Animal post by Roxanne Cooper.

You can read my extra, giant-sized comments on Big Love here.

(I walked in a little late, so I don't know if they're using either Fleetwood Mac's "Big Love" (bad) or Little Village's "Big Love" (good) as the theme song. Drat!)

Rob

Good Riddance.

Slobodan Milosevic, dead of natural causes in prison.

Rob

VIBU!

That's my new acronym for Very Important Blogroll Update. Learn this timesaver and use it -- it could come in handy at this site as often as twice a year.

But, I wanted to direct your attention to a few new blogs to your right (or my left, since I'm sitting in your monitor watching you right now... yes, even you).

The first is VeeganMD's Journal. He's a good buddy who's moved away and we don't see him nearly enough anymore. Expect him to talk about his veeganism, being a doctor, and Dungeons and Dragons. I just hope that he finds a way to make it possible to link to specific posts on his site. (And see? Some of my best friends are Swedish!)

(If you don't get that joke, you don't really need to.)

I divided up the Other Blogs section into Political Blogs and Comics Blogs. New to the political end are The Bull Moose (an ex-republican who I don't always agree with, but always find worth reading) and BAG News Notes, which examines the subtext of political photography. I don't go there all the time, but every time I do, I'm fascinated.

Comics-wise, we've got The Beat (a great news & opinion source, and the place I look for any NYC-centered comics events), The Savage Critic (for pull-no-punches comics reviews) and Dave's Long Box (a very funny site in which Dave looks back at old comics in his collection, making up a word or two on the way. Get over there or I'll go all Airwolf on your ass!). There's other goodies too, but I'm tired of making with the descriptions. See for yourself.

This concludes today's VIBU.

Rob

Like a Circus, but With More Clowns

You can't make this stuff up.

A former Bush regime official, Claude A. Allen, was arrested for pulling the same scam pirate-fan-fave Peter Saarsgaarrrrd* pulls in the movie Garden State: Buying items from Target, then taking the receipts and going back into the store, pulling items off the shelf and "returning" them.

As Josh Marshall at Talking Points Memo puts it: "[Allen] resigned abruptly one month ago to spend more time with his family, thus, like David Safavian, providing the prescribed Bush administration interval between resignation and arrest."

Hah!

Rob

*Yes, it wasn't a very funny SNL sketch, but it was based on an inspired idea.

Success!

The Googlebombing of Bill Napoli instigated by the Smart Bitches worked. (It actually was working pretty much all of yesterday, but I kept meaning to mention it with a link, which is hard to do from work.)

Congrtulations, bitches!

Bill Napoli.

Bill Napoli.

Bill Motherfuckin' Napoli.

Rob

Classic Comics

I remember being bowled over by the scene in the comic V for Vendetta (can'twaitforthemoviecan'twaitcan'twait!) where V tells Evey that the signature bar from Beethoven's Fifth (roman numeral: V) Symphony (da-da-da-DUMMMMM) is also the morse code symbol for the letter V: (dot-dot-dot-DASH). It stuck with me ever since as one of those cool little details in life.

But there's a new connection between classical music and comics. I read over at Eric Reynolds' Fantagraphics Blog that Deutsche Grammophon is releasing new "best-of" style CD compilations featuring cover art by indy comics artists such as Peter Bagge, Richard Sala and R. Sikoryak. As Eric links, so shall I: you can read more about 'em here, and buy them (for $6.99!) here.

Rob

Giving the conservatives their props

Okay, while looking for an image of James Carville to show Kathy, I found this HI-larious page from before November's election. Haven't read much of it yet, but the pictures are pure gold.

Hats off to you, conservative blogger Korlapundit. You struck comedy gold.

Rob

Everyone in India hates us

We just got a 58-pound box of beef jerky shipped to us at the magazine. Jim the Bastard will have details and photos later, and I’ll link to him when he does.

I just want to take this opportunity to express my deepest apologies to Aishwarya Rai, who both Roger Ebert and I agree is the most beautiful woman in the universe. From my nation to yours, Ash: our bad.

Rob

UPDATE: The Bastard came through with a post that says it all. Plus, the picture of Chicago Jerkface looks SO much like James Carville it's scary.

No Shit, Sherlock

Rick "Man on Lobbyist on Dog" Santorum is a liar. Is anyone surprised?

Rob

Googlebombing Napoli

Jeri explains. I hear and obey.

Bill Napoli. (Christ, what a shithead.)

Rob

The Busiest Man in the World

Not in a million years would I trade places with Bill Paxton's character in the new HBO series which premeires this Sunday, Big Love. Bill Henrickson owns a hardware store that's just branching out into a chain. Which is keeping him busy enough. But he's also got his wife Barbara to think about (Jean Tripplehorn). And his wife Nicolette (Chloe Sevigny). And his wife Margene (Ginnifer Goodwin). Plus all their kids. And his parents. And a ton of in-laws.

The way the series is set up, it looks like Bill and his immediate family (a phrase that takes on a different meaning here) broke free of a religious commune, run by Nicolette's father, Roman (Harry Dean Stanton). The commune practices polygamy, and it looks like Bill & co. took that on the road. But in the outside world, they've got to keep it secret.

I got to see a preview of the series tonight (with my friend Steph) and it looks like it'll be a helluva show. I won't get to see it for a while, since I don't have HBO, but I'll consider renting the DVDs. It's got nice tension -- familial, marital, and just a hint of legal (which will surely grow as the series progresses). It'll be interesting to see more of the wives' relationships with each other, and of Bill's private relationship with each wife. One of Jean Tripplehorn's lines -- "are you going to wear pajamas to bed all the time, or just on my nights?" illustrates what a crazy tightrope he'll be walking throughout the show.

Oh well. He made his beds.

Rob

UPDATE: (Just to add a little meat to this post, since it seems to be getting some attention.) Based on the premiere, Big Love is a good show – it looks like a well-realized drama about the troubles of a polygamous family. And while it’s bound to delve into some disturbing territory (Roman’s teenage bride being the example placed front-and-center in the premiere), it’s not a documentary. It’s a TV show presented as entertainment. Which probably means that some aspects of polygamy will be glossed over, or not shown in the most disturbing light possible. And other aspects of the show will be unrealistic, in order to make the premise work and be relatable to a general audience.

This isn’t a bad thing. Someone can make (and doubtless has made) documentaries about the true state of polygamy. I’d be interested in seeing one. But I can say for certain that it will never get the kind of audience a show like Big Love gets. But while Big Love may pull some punches, it will almost certainly be disturbing enough to bring polygamy onto the radar of people who never gave it a second thought. And it may even drive a percentage of viewers to seek out more information about the issue. Is it really fair to ask for more from a cable drama series?

Crime and Punishment

Atrios posts an interesting exchange from an old Hardball, in which Chris Matthews corners then-PA Senate candidate Pat Toomey (who was running to the right of Arlen Specter in the 2004 Repug primary) about his views on abortion. Specifically, he tried to get Toomey to say what the punishement should be for an abortion if it's banned. Read the whole weaselly exchange.

If abortion is murder (which most pro-lifers believe), then it would follow that the doctor should be charged with murder, and the woman for, at the very least, conspiracy to commit murder. Although I think if you hire a hitman -- essentially what she'd be doing under a ban based on the idea that fetuses are human beings -- you get charged with murder, the same as if you'd pulled the trigger.

Conservatives won't say that -- none but the far-fringe whackjobs, at least. It's the underpinning of what they believe, but it's so far out of line with what any sensible person can accept that any support for their argument would fall apart.

Rob

(Edited to place the conversation in its proper context.)

Moxie

While I'm certainly not a member of the Cult of the Cat, sometimes spunk just can't be denied. As Elvis homself once said, "Go, cat, go!"

Rob

Three Keyboards and a Wayback Machine

Last night Kathy & I headed out for pizza and a rock concert…at a high school, but a rock concert nonetheless. Spiraling was playing a benefit for the Metuchen High School music program and Feed the Children. Spiraling plays an aggressive synth-rock, with frontman Tom Brislin playing three keyboards, sometimes all in the same song (and despite having only two hands, seemingly all at once).

As impressed as I am with Brislin—and I have been ever since I first saw him play at one of Glenn Burtnik’s Xmas Xtravaganzas, years ago—tonight drummer Paul Wells grabbed my attention. Watching him pound away during “Transmitter,” I got a sense of how truly complex the rhythms are behind these songs.

The band played a few songs from their upcoming album during the set – “Victory Kiss” and “Choices” were two of the names I caught, plus lots of songs from their first two albums. We have Transmitter, and I recognized “Girl on Top (of the Piano),” “This is the Road,” Lightning Twice” and “The Connection,” from that album, as well as “Ah, Sugar,” “Texas is the Reason” and “A Face for Radio” from Challenging Stage, which I really oughta pick up one of these days.

But then their encore came. And it only took a moment to recognize it: A-Ha’s “Take On Me.” And there we are, sitting in the auditorium, watching a bunch of high school kids dance to this song, that I have a hard time believing they even know. But I catch sight of a couple of girls singing along, and the same thought flashes through my head that I later find out flashed through Kathy’s: We were that age when this song first came out.

Thanks, Sherman – I didn’t realize the Wayback could go to 1984.

Rob

Curse you, Snowmiser!

I've shaved my head. That means it should be Spring! Spring, I say! I'm like a groundhog, only shinier. Don't mess with me, frostypants.

Rob

Dreamlinkblogging.

Up until now, I never really dreamt about work. Even more shocking, Jim the Bastard is blogging my dreams. Eerie.

Rob

The one review to read...

...when you're reading only one.

Here's James Wolcott's terrific, spoiler-free review of V for Vendetta. It sounds like something I wouldn't want to miss even if I weren't such a big geek.

On the other hand, I've heard Harry Knowles (of Ain't It Cool News) didn't like it. No matter. I'd honestly rather know whether this movie works for people unfamiliar with the source material, rather than people who know the ins and outs of the comic before the credits roll.

I'm so seeing this.

Rob

"Set the Ferrets on 100% Poem"

Those are among the words of wisdom a very drunk Mike shared with us shortly after I painted a big orange eye on his forehead.

After he wiped the eye (and the paint) on Jessica's new sweater (this will come back to haunt him, you can be sure), he also said:

"Fan that fart with a ferret."

"You jesters, you fools, you bees that sting me in my anus"

and, in Spanish: "The dog ate the big car," "My vagina is very big," and "Her asshole is red."

What with the bees, I can only imagine the condition of his asshole. I hope he's not allergic.

Perhaps most poignantly, he told us: "Just onions."

We'll take that to heart, Mike. You smeary orange bastid.

Rob

P.S. This is a signal that the Mardi Gras party was a success, by the way. Laissez les bon temps roulez!

Jambalaya Time!

Can't post. Stirring.

Rob

Santorum on the Take?

Of course he is. Not just a prick, but a prick bought and paid for. Kevin Drum has details.

Rob

Anger Management

Stealing JtB's M.O.:

Hey shitwit, the fact that I'm trying to sleep on this wobbly fucking train car isn't a signal for you to park yourself right over me and start with the blah blahs and yadda yaddas. I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR FUCKING IPOD, and if you continue to yammer on about your adventures with said object, I'll crank it up to full and cram it so far up your ass you'll hear a new chapter of The DaVinci Code every time you fart.

You're lucky I don't travel with a machete. You came this close to hemorrhaging from the sheer force of my hate.

Rob
(Vegas recap soon, honest!)

Juans and Cyros.

01001000 01101111 01110111 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101111 01101100 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00111111

01010010 01101111 01100010

01010100 01101000 01100001 01101110 01111000 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01010011 01101000 01101100 01100001 01100010 01100001 01101101 00100000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01000011 01101111 01101101 01101001 01100011 01110011 00100000 01000011 01100001 01110110 01100101 00101110

Bizarro World

Does this seem ridiculous to you?

''My family and I are deeply sorry for everything Vice President Cheney and his family have had to deal with,'' Harry Whittington said in his first comments since being shot on a South Texas ranch six days earlier.

If I am ever shot in the face, there will be no apology forthcoming.

Rob

If BRAINNZ be the food of love, play on...

Am I ever sorry I’m going to have to miss this. If you're free this weekend, you might not have to.

Rob

Home again, home again

Jiggity jig.

I'll give a full Vegas report soon -- probably in a wave of posts, rather than one long one. Suffice it to say that I have not changed tax brackets.

Rob

Will I be Stranded In Vegas?

Tune in tomorrow.

Rob

Club Life

Jim’s cousin got us into Light, a high-end nightclub at the Bellagio. They opened up our own escalator to let us up, to give you an idea of our first impression. Then they brought us to a table (through a dance floor that included platforms with poles, if the mood struck you and you had two X chromosomes). We had two servers, a guy in a shirt and tie and a girl named Katie in a bustier and garters. They told us we were comped two bottles, so we chose a bottle of Grey Goose vodka and Bombay Sapphire gin. They brought out carafes full of mixers and mixed us whatever we wanted.

A big guy came over and introduced himself. His name was CJ, and he had our backs. Yes, we had our own bodyguard. Jim the Bastard has a picture of him with Sara/Suzie that I took here. He’s ginormous. The first time I tried to take their picture, I didn’t leave enough room for his head.

If we’d paid for it, it would’ve cost around $800. But lemme tell ya, it was priceless.

Rob

Didn't change a goddamn word

Okay. Here’s the goddamn deal.

I’ve been drinking since like 7:15. It’s now 4:30 in the morning (almost) and nothing but gin and tonic has passed my lips (aside from a delicious goddamn meal at Fix and one screwdriver mistakenly poured for me. And while I may post this at 8 or so in the morning, I’m writing it at 4:30 and am not changing a gorram word. (Yes, sometimes I think in Firefly. Deal.)

Had wonderful, comped food from Jim’s cousin. I can’t articulate how good it was. Kobe beef. $65 a plate. Knock your feet off good. This is at the Bellagio.

Next, drinks at Caramel. Also comped. Got drunker there.

Then, Light, an awesome nightclub. Were comped two bottles of liquor – gin and vodka. Most people drank vodka. Up to me and Jim the bastard to drink gin. Oh, gin.

Did not finish bottle of G. JtB left at about the halfway point, about 2 hours ago. Eventually, just me and JtB’s friend, Johnny Airplanes, still there. Stayed til about 4. Left the club. Hit the head before cab ride. Propositioned by two hookers (from a team of three). Really nice looking. Let ‘em dangle, walked on. (The line between virtue, stupidity and plain old cheapness is blurry.) Took a cab to Hilton. Blogged instead of sleeping. I’m a goddamn idiot.

Rob

What Happens in Vegas

As you may know, I’m in Vegas for a few days for the SHOT Show, a outdoors and shooting sports industry convention. It’s busy and huge, and I may not have much time to blog. But check out Jim the Bastard’s site for the mulletwatch and other events of note.

I'll report in when I can. On a personal note, so far the craps tables have not been kind. But the guy making crepes at the Paris buffet? So friendly I nearly split in deux.

Rob

Taxicab Revelations

A quick story before I leave for Vegas.

This weekend, Kathy & I met up with our friends Mike and Jessica (see, Mike – here’s your name!) in NYC. It was raining, so we hopped a cab from their hotel to the restaurant (Sushi Samba, where we had a delicious meal and dropped quite a bit of money doing it – but I’m getting ahead of myself).

I got in the cab in the front seat. The cabbie—a wiry latino guy wearing a bandana with skulls on it—quickly moved a backpack on the seat and said “hold on, hold on, watch the bag.” After the bag was set in the foot area, I got into the car. We started moving. Here’s a little play of our exchange.

Cabbie: I didn’t mean to yell, I just didn’t want it to go boom, y’know?

Me: uh…

Cabbie: It’s not a bomb or nothing, I’m not a terrorist, no way. I’ve got a license for it.

Me: Sure, I understand.

What I understood was that there was a loaded gun at my feet.

So we drive around a bit – Mapquest gave us the wrong address – when the windows start to fog. I crack mine open a bit. The cabbie turns on the defogger and tells me to roll up the window, rain was getting in. I say (although a little voice tells me there’s risk in this joke, but what the hell): “I wouldn’t want to make a man moist.”

The cabbie stops the cab. “What’d you say?” The driver fishes for the cab license and shows me the picture. “Look here, look here – what do you see?”

I get a brief look at the cabbie’s picture, under the name Valentine. I’m not sure what I see.

“That’s right, all woman.”

Holy crap. I get it now. I’ve insulted this woman. I’ve insulted this woman, and she’s got a gun.

She says “You want a squeeze? Your wife is here, or else I’d tell you to feel ’em,” indicating her breasts. “I made a guy feel ‘em once – he made the same mistake. His girlfriend was in the car, and she kept quiet, but I know he got hell later.”

Mike, Jessica & Kathy are cracking up in the back. Me, I’m just mortified.

Val assured me it was okay, and there were no hard feelings. Then she started telling us about people having sex behind her cab. “I think they were trying to shock me,” she said. “I just pushed the mirror away.” She was really friendly and chatty, especially considering my mistake.

She let us off at the restaurant, I paid her, and we’ll never see her again. But I don’t expect to hear the end of this anytime soon.

Rob

DAY-ammmmn!

TPM has a sharp quote from Sen. Feingold.

Rob

We're we're going, Marty...

...we don't need roads.

Chris R. sent me a link to this video, which at last answers the question of what my coworkers were laughing so hard at when I was trying to concentrate the other day. Thanks, man.

Rob

That Republican "Can-Do" Spirit

Giving it 110 percent.

This pretty much speaks for itself, don’t you think?

Rob

Who's That Girl?

I swear I saw Reese Witherspoon as I was walking to work today. Except she was black.

Is there a black Reese Witherspoon? Did Chappelle have another Racial Draft?

Rob

The surprise surprise

Nasty surprise this morning. I woke up, thinking, “Aw hell. It’s not Saturday after all. It’s goddamn Friday.”

Wasn’t more’n a minute after that I got my second nasty surprise.

Rob

It's Here!

Handless mutant-retards should ask a friend to zip them up.

Rob

Scoooore!

Kathy & I went to a Rangers game last night. They were playing my hometown team, the Flyers, so the two of us had a good rivalry going. For a long while, the Rangers had the upper hand, scoring two goals to the Flyers zilch. Frankly, it was all Henrick Lovstuen – nothing was getting by him. And then, in the third period, the Flyers whizzed two by him – one right after a face-off. The game went into overtime, and popped another one into the goal in under two minutes. Final score? Flyers, 3-2.

Bottom line is, we both had a really good time. Kathy’s the hockey fan in the family, but I have to admit I had a blast. I’d love to do it again – maybe even watch a game where I can root for the Rangers. But not last night. I’ve never felt better watching a bunch of disgruntled fans shuffling from the arena as I did last night.

Rob

Every Day I Write the Book

Well, today and yesterday, anyway. And many, many days before that. I'm hip-deep in my Angola book, but finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. Just type up my corrections for this draft, and then it's on to the backmatter.

Whoo-hah!

Rob

As Buddha said to the hot dog vendor...

"Make me one with everything."

This is one with everything. Bless these people.

Rob
(Via the inimitable KTBuffy)

Hard to Say Goodbye

And, as unexpectedly as it appeared, Handless Mutant-Retard Month ends. Not because I feel any less kinship with my handless mutant-retard brethren, but simply because it’s hard to post about anything else when my heart is drawn to these brave, brave, handless, brave, mutant-retard souls. I must close myself off a little bit, from the heroism of Chucky P. Sloan, the handless mutant-retard who saved six pigs (and a stuffed wallaby) in the Great Chicago Fire, or the abstract villainy of Huey Devlin, who painted all the Bibles in his church with clear nail polish, which he called “the devil’s pigment.”

Or Theresa Puttie, the handless mutant-retard mistress of Felix Mendelssohn, who inspired so many of his notebook doodles but not a note of music. Or my email correspondent who I only know as “JrRaindrop,” who uses voice recognition software to compose villanelles out of the numbers s/he can’t fit into his/her sudoku puzzles.

All of these people, and more have touched me. Their stumps are on my heart.

I look forward to the next handless mutant-retard month, however long it lasts, whenever it may come.

Rob

Did You Know?

Milton von Fleimanchen, a Viennese confectioner, once crafted exquisite hands out of marzipan for his handless mutant-retard son, Fritz.

He didn't make that mistake twice.

Rob
(What the %#$@% am I talking about? Lemme ’splain.)

Did You Know?

Handless mutant-retards are still partying like it's 1999.

Rob
(What the %#$@% am I talking about? Lemme ’splain.)

Life is a Carnivore

Oh, I'm sorry, I meant a Carnival! Which reminds me, the newest Carnival of New Jersey Bloggers is up, this time at The Center of NJ Life, where the latest fireworks went down (up?) and Handless Mutant-Retard Month was born. Take a stroll, peek in some tents, and don't gawk at the goat boy. As we all know, it could be worse.




Rob

Did You Know?

A certain segment of the handless mutant-retard population can see into the infrared range. Others can hear subsonic noises or detect scents at a level science has not yet named, although "ultrastink" is being considered.

Rob

Did You Know?

The inclusion of Tom Bombadil in Peter Jackson’s movie, The Fellowship of the Ring, was squelched by a legal dispute. Jackson had cast handless mutant-retard heartthrob Neil Garvey as the legendary musician and nature spirit, but Garvey pulled out when he learned he would not be allowed to keep the CGI hands used to make him appear to play the lute. A sympathetic court ordered the footage—and “handage”—to be destroyed.

Rob
(What the %#$@% am I talking about? Lemme ’splain.)

Did You Know?

Two handless mutant-retards, Wally Monroe and Akimbe Londagala, received special dispensations from Pope John Paul II to hang-glide from the top of the Vatican in 1992. Miraculously, Londagala survived!

Rob

Did You Know?

As a side-effect of their mutation, many handless mutant-retards' armpits smell like fresh blueberry waffles.

Rob

Did You Know?

Most handless mutant-retards would be right-handed.

Rob

Did You Know?

A handless mutant-retard known only as "Davey" invented the toy rhinoceros. Plans to follow up its success with a toy baboon were scuttled for unknown reasons.

Rob

Stumped by your Heritage?

It’s Handless Mutant-Retard Month here at Laughing at the Pieces. Sure, it started just two days ago, and God willing, I’ll tire of this joke before 30 days are up. But it’s still a “month.” What can I tell you? We’re handless mutant-retards. Coherence is not our strong suit. (Neither is piano.)

An explanation: I got involved in a bit of a flame war this week. Eventually, the anonymous poster I targeted called me (for reasons too complicated to get into here, but here’s a good place to start looking) a “handless, mutant-retard.”

Yeah, I know. I couldn’t believe it either. So I took it as a badge of honor. And started posting little-known facts about my handless mutant-retard brethren.

With the first three, I was just warming up:

Fact One
Fact Two
Fact C

After those, I started getting into the groove, fitting handless mutant-retards into odd nooks and crannies of history and pop culture. And generally making stuff up.

Fact Four
Fact Sigma
Fact Epsilon
Fact G
Fact 7-11
Fact PUPPIES!
Fact Pi
Fact Lozenge
Fact One I Forgot
Fact Frizbee
Fact Cicuenta y Dos
Fact 25
Fact Naomi told a FIB!
Fact Helmut

More tidbits of handless mutant-retard history may come to light. I’ll try to add them to the list. (In case I forget, click here to whisk yourself to the top o' the blog.)

Rob

Did You Know?

Members of HUMMER, a militant handless mutant-retard group, were prohibited from coming within 200 yards of the "Hands Across America" event in 1986 when the courts ruled that they intended their planned protests to erupt in violence.

Rob
(What the %#$& am I talking about? Lemme 'splain...)

Apologies.

Chris & Cecilia,

I know that you both use the anonymous option to post on my and other blogspot blogs, signing your posts in the text. And I always love hearing from both of you. But lately I've been involved in a dust-up with an anonymous poster, and in the end it turned so repugnant to me that I've decided to disable anonymous posting. I figure, if this guy's gonna come at me -- and there's been no indication that he even has the sense to follow my name to my blog -- he's gonna come at me with an honest-to-god made-up name.

I hope you both register with blogger and continue to post here, not just because I value your input, but because I miss you guys and like hearing from you. I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience. It's just that this guy went from being an amusing little idiot to someone whose behavior has made me sick to my stomach. They're just words, and I'm almost certainly overreacting, attributing malice to him where it's most likely simply a lack of imagination. But he's nameless, he's a creep, and he's local. And that combination, in my mind, makes him a problem.

So until further notice, I'm disabling anonymous comments. Anyone who can't bother to sign even a made-up name most likely isn't worth listening to anyhow.

Rob

Did You Know?

Angus Nichols, a 22-year-old handless mutant-retard welder, worked on the Golden Gate Bridge. Wearing a special mask, he held the torch in his teeth.

Within six months of the bridge's completion, Nichols' teeth fell out and he was forced to wear dentures, ending his career.

Rob
(What the %#$& am I talking about? Lemme 'splain...)

Did You Know?

Handless mutant-retards account for 60% of all non-restaurant drinking-straw sales (excepting Crazy Straws, whose sales are dominated by the handless mutant-agorophobes).

Rob

Did You Know?

There have been six handless mutant-retard winners of the Great American Danceapalooza since its inception in 1962. All but one, Mary Ellen Krupthoffer, danced the jitterbug. (Krupthoffer frugged.)

Rob

Did You Know?

Handless mutant-retards love ice cream. Hell, everyone loves ice cream!

Rob

Did You Know?

In the Netherlands, handless mutant-retards are believed to be able to scratch the backs of the dead. People always invite handless mutant-retards to wakes, just to make the guest of honor comfy.

Rob
(What the %#$& am I talking about? Lemme 'splain...)

Did You Know?

Handless mutant-retards are chick magnets in Greenland, thanks to the national pop sensation Neil Garvey, whose hit song "Evvyone Wanna Get Wit Moi" topped the Greenland charts.

Rob

Did You Know?

The 1982 series “Joanie Loves Chachi” employed not one but two handless mutant-retards on its writing staff. Together, they opened a lot of (automatic) doors in Hollywood.

Rob

Did You Know?

The Gap is introducing a new line of pullovers for handless mutant-retards for Fall 2006. Naturally, someone else will have to do the pulling over.

Rob

Did You Know?

Sir Winston Churchill had a little-known brother who was a handless mutant-retard. Named Henry, he was often called "Poultice." The origins of the nickname are unknown.

Rob

Did You Know?

"I'm a handless mutant-retard" can also be sung to "I've Been Workin' on the Railroad."

Rob
(All the live-long day)

Did You Know?

In the phrase "handless mutant-retard," the hyphen makes it extra special!

Rob

Did You Know?

“Handless mutant-retard” can be sung to the tune of “Peaceful, Easy Feeling.”

More fun facts to come.

Rob

I’m a Handless Mutant-Retard!

Okay, maybe a little background is needed. Back in November, Sharon at The Center of NJ Life posted about NJ’s workplace smoking ban. And since it recently became law, she’s been getting a lot of hits and comments on this older post. When she noted this action with a more recent post, some new people chimed in, me being one of them.

And, long story short, I’ve been going back and forth with an anonymous poster for a while now. Debating him was a dead end, so I just started teasing him. Which, a few hours ago, led him to call me a “handless mutant-retard.” Which is awesome. I’m still a little dumbfounded.

Anyway, if you want to watch, the post is here. It’s like bear-baiting, except you don’t feel sorry for the bear.

Rob

P.S. And if you have any thoughts about the NJ smoking ban or smoking bans in general, please post, too. God knows, between him and me, we could use some adult voices in the room.

I Sing the Body Electric

Jeri has a sick laptop. I think we should all go over there and sing it little songs.

C'mon, guys! Darla! Spanky! Let's put on a SHOW!

Rob

Finding Frank

If you like reading Frank Rich's weekly commentaries as much as I do, you can find the most recent one here.

Rob

Want to be a Superhero?

Here's a casting call for a touring children's production starring the DC heroes. Just wondering how they'll do the Flash onstage (actually, I have an idea). Or Beast Boy, for that matter.

Rob

Week of the Bat

A new meme has infected Livejournal posters: everyone's drawing Batgirl.

Batgirl.

Batgirl.

Batgirl?

Here are links to over 200 of them.

Rob

Roberston Apologizes

Just to follow up on the "Pat Robertson: What a dick" post, it seems he's written a letter of apology to Sharon's son and the people of Israel, asking for forgiveness.

God, of course, forgave him right away, knowing that the simpleminded and deranged can't really be held responsible for their outbursts. But the guy who lets him him keep his microphone? Not so much.

Rob

Not a Chappelle Sketch

Sploid: Black Klansman Retires.

Rob

A New Case

Just before our love got lost you said,
“I am as constant as the Northern Star,” and I said,
“Constantly in the darkness, where’s that at?
If you want me I’ll be in the bar.”

That’s the opening verse of Joni Mitchell’s “A Case of You,” and it’s one of my favorite opening verses of all time. It may be the bluntest presentation of an argument I’ve ever heard in a song, and – flowery North Star stuff aside – seems very real to me. Get a parting shot in, leave the room mad, and fume about it afterward.

The rest of the song’s just as good. And if you want to hear a new recording of it by one of this generation’s talented singer-songwriters, it’s this month’s free download at MarkErelli.com. After this month you’ll be able to find it in the archive, also at this link. Check it out.

Rob
(Frightened by the Devil, and drawn to those ones that ain’t afraid)

He's Not There

Okay, this is just freakin' cool.

Sploid: Chinese Man Can't Be Photographed!

News you can use, oh rabid ones.

Rob

Disappointment

I read an article on Buzzscope last night that really got me angry. Ronee Garcia Bourgeois interviewed three women on sexual harassment in the comics industry. You can read it here. There’s no point summarizing it; the women talk about their experiences, and as expected, reading it made me angry. Angry that people treat other people this way, just because they’re women. Angry because I’m an outsider who likes to think that the comic book industry is better than that, even though I know it’s not. Angry because we’ve all still got a long way to go before we’re civilized.

You can read it for yourself. You’ll get angry too.

But underneath that anger is a real sense of disappointment. I’d heard one of these stories before, and I’d love to not believe it. The offender in question is a guy whose work I’ve admired since I could read the credits in comic books, even if I wasn’t quite sure what an “editor’ did. And it bothers me that he personally doesn’t live up to what I’d built him up to in my head, what even other anecdotes I’d hear about him billed him as. I met him briefly when I was in high school, and he was very nice to me and my friend, showing us a big wall of upcoming comics covers.

Then again, I was a teenage boy. I didn’t have anything to worry about.

This guy was, in my opinion, one of the best editors comics ever had. The comics he produced were exactly what the ten-year-old me craved. Certainly, he was one of the people who made the stories so compelling that they’re still my hobby, nearly 30 years later.

And yet.

Everyone is entitled to feet of clay. No one is perfect. But in some people, that’s what you want from them. That’s what you expect, because you do idolize them, as silly as that sounds. They’re, in some way, your heroes. And when they fall short of that ideal—as this one certainly did—it hurts. This isn't simply a matter of a human failing. It's manipulative and it's mean and I don't have any sympathy for it. Everyone should be better than this.

Certainly, there’s more at stake here than my feelings. People have been hurt or traumatized in genuine, direct ways. I haven’t had that experience, and wouldn’t presume to speak for those who have.

But I have to ask: if you build your career spinning the adventures of true-blue superheroes, paragons of virtue and honor, shouldn’t that sense of right and wrong rub off on you? Because it rubbed off on me, and I just read the stuff.

Rob

(Via Johanna. Heidi at The Beat also has a thoughtful (and far less self-absorbed) perspective on the topic.)

Incompetence

Another great Frank Rich column:

That the White House's over-the-top outrage about the Times scoop is a smokescreen contrived to cover up something else is only confirmed by Dick Cheney's disingenuousness. In last week's oration at a right-wing think tank, he defended warrant-free wiretapping by saying it could have prevented the 9/11 attacks. Really? Not with this administration in charge. On 9/10 the N.S.A. (lawfully) intercepted messages in Arabic saying, "The match is about to begin," and, "Tomorrow is zero hour." You know the rest. Like all the chatter our government picked up during the president's excellent brush-clearing Crawford vacation of 2001, it was relegated to mañana; the N.S.A. didn't rouse itself to translate those warnings until 9/12.

It doesn't matter that Bush's ear is to the ground; chances are he wouldn't recognize an oncoming stampede. Bush can't keep us safe. He's already proven that, twice.

Rob

(Via Mark E.)

Stating the Obvious

Multimillionaire Richard Branson is expanding his Virgin brand with a line of comic books: Virgin Comics.

Is it me, or do the jokes just write themselves?

Rob

(Good luck to them, but jeez...)

1940’s Double Feature!

And believe me, the only thing these two movies have in common is the decade in which they were released.

I was home sick today, under doctor’s orders not to do anything, so I took the opportunity to watch some movies. My first pick was Casablanca. I’d seen it a number of times before, and so have you, so I’m not going to bother to summarize the plot. Besides, if you haven’t seen it, go out, buy it on DVD, and watch it. Don’t bother renting it, it’s too good not to watch more than once.

This time, I watched it with Roger Ebert’s commentary on (rewatching some of my favorite scenes with the movie audio), and I learned a few things. The thing that probably sticks with me most is that very few of the actors were born in America. Most had fled Europe after Hitler came to power. Look at the IMDB bio of S.Z. “Cuddles” Sakall, who played Carl, the Maitre’D at Rick’s. German movies from 1917 to 1937, then a three-year gap, then American movies from 1940 onward. The extensively European cast gives the movie an extra stamp of authenticity.

Another thing I learned (and this wasn’t in the commentary) is that Claude Rains looks a lot like one of our ferrets, The Dude.

Later on, Kathy and I sat down to watch The Devil Bat, a 1941 horror movie in which Bela Lugosi plays a kindly doctor who secretly has been enlarging bats to enormous proportions, and training them to attack whoever wears a special shaving lotion he’s prepared. The great fun of the movie is watching him jump through hoops to get people to splash a bit of it on. Well, that and the giant rubber bat. There are no giant rubber bats in Casablanca. You’re looking for giant rubber bats, only Lugosi’s got you covered.

Everything else, though, I’d go with Bogart.

Rob

You saw this coming, didn't you?

Pat Robertson: What a dick.

Rob

Sick. Tired.

I'll be back soon, but right now I feel like hell. If you're good, though, I won't tell you all about it.

Rob