a 'bend over" in the yard is sufficient to scare me off

I apologize most insincerely for the lack of fresh posts around here. I've been working on formulating what I'm calling the law of cave canem. I was wondering how much time elapsed between the introduction of the first "Beware of Dog" sign and the first person without a dog to put one up, and I was thinking that, now, that elapsed time would be damn close to zero. So we could talk about the "cave canem" period when discussing the potential for hackery, either helpful or harmful, on any new idea.
It's not really a law, I guess, more of a guiding principle sort of thing, or just a tendency. A corollary to Manifest Destiny? Anyway, it seems there's something uniquely American about it.

Also, it must really piss off burglars.

So you see why I wouldn't bother posting.

how I imagine it went down

The setting: a meeting between Sarah Palin and a couple McCain stooges, to discuss running as McCain's VP.

SP: Gee guys, I don't know. I'm awfully busy-- I've got these kids, one with special needs, and I understand you heard about my slutty daughter? I'm just not sure if there's room in my life for Vice Presidential duties. And what if something happened to John? Then I'd be President! Right?

McCain Stooge One: (turns to McCain Stooge Two)She, um, seems to think...

MS2: Right. You want me to tell her, or should I?

MS1: I bought lunch. You tell her.

MS2: (to SP) You know we're not gonna win, right?

it's getting so hot I'm worried about my thermometer

Admittedly, discussion of "the economy" and how it's supposed to work put a dull ache behind my eyeballs, so I don't pretend to know what this means:

Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke said Friday the financial crisis that has pounded the country — coupled with higher inflation — is taking a toll on the economy and poses a major challenge to Fed policymakers as they try to restore stability.

But That sounds a little like crying over the death of your canary as the miners go marching down the mineshaft, no?

you always find these laying around after Pink Floyd concerts

And this would be the best day the kids at the children's home would ever remember.

off to a good start

I'm rooting for this story to show up in News of the Weird:

A Batavia man was arrested on his wedding night after police realized that an order of protection obtained against him by his bride was still in effect.


In case you're thinking, "How stupid can this guy be?", well, this stupid:

When police arrived, they found Cole in an altercation with a guest over a chair.

I'm not sure if this means he was fighting with a guest while hovering over the chair, Crouching Tiger-like. I hope so.

Free?! You sure I can't give you something?

You forgot "slingshot and rabbit's foot".

Weeee!

The NYT is apparently writing for my daughter now. I think today's article, McCain Woos Bikers, will soon be available in a board book:
STURGIS, S.D. — Vrrrooooom. Vrroom, vroom, vroom.

I think all news articles should start with sound effects. This will, in my opinion, greatly improve the Paris Hilton coverage.

give me your hungry

Earlier today I caught a bit of CNN coverage and noticed that John McCain was speaking in front of s sign reading "Fudge Haus". Which I thought was pretty funny. Later, I see on Crooks and Liars a picture of him speaking in the cheese aisle of a supermarket. What's going on here? Some kind of Pavlovian strategy? Are they sruggling so much that they're resorting to the message: "Mccain=fondue"?

Corvette Summer

Bob Novak: He's not dead, that's the main thing.

Bobby, Bobby. While it is certainly a good thing that that the guy who bounced off your windshield is alive, I think the "main thing" for you ought to be that you hit a dude and kept driving. Outing covert CIA agents didn't satisfy your blood lust, eh? Had to take matters into your own hands?

Also, thank god the Corvette's okay.
Do people still drive those things? Was the dealership out of Deloreans?

Linguo IS dead

We all have friends who communicate primarily through pop culture references and quotations. I can very easily lapse into this behavior myself. I s'pose this could be viewed as a distancing mechanism, a substitute for real expression, but I prefer to see it as employing a common language. There are just some situations, in certain company, where the most meaningful thing you can say is "you using the whole fist, doc?", or "I wonder who owns that moon?".

Which is to say: your mileage may vary, but I for one got a little choked up reading this webcomic.

Beakerthoven

Oh, Jokerman, you don't show any response

Saw The Dark Knight last night, and if you haven't seen it get thee to a cinema. It's purty damn nifty.
'Course everyone's talking about Heath Ledger's performance, including "ooh an Oscar maybe", which would make for a hell of an acceptance speech. Ledger was a super-creepy Joker, but I kept thinking "who does he remind me of?". As someone who's done a smidgen of what I guess you could "acting", I know that my "method" was basically to combine impressions of people, say Ed Wynn and Danny Kaye or something, to create a new color. That's probably not really acting, but I often suspect this is what many of our stellar actors are really doing (see: Johnny Depp doing Keith Richards in the Pirate movies, Johnny Depp doing Georgia O'Keefe at the end of Blow, Daniel Day Lewis channeling John Huston in There Will Be Blood). So it kept bothering me: "He's DOING somebody!". Then at one point it dawned on me. If you haven't seen The Dark Knight, this'll mean nothing to you, but if you have, let me know if you think I'm crazy:

you can have no idea what a delightful thing a Lobster Quadrille is

One of Rochester's finest bands, The Lobster Quadrille, has one of them "music video" things! Please enjoy, and if you look closely you will see a Dad and Mom of Grizzly persuasion carousing in the background.

I don't want to burst your bubble

To the person who somehow found their way here by doing a Yahoo search of "should I pop a hemorrhoid?":

The answer, unequivocally, is yes! Everyone should, once in their lives. I haven't, yet, but someday I hope to remedy that.

Now it just falls to you to decide: whose?

I see a pretty butterfly

Today I can thank Titivil for hipping me to the Watchmen trailer.
I can't remember the last time I saw a movie trailer that made me want to jump up and down like a three-year-old, shouting "canwego canwego canwego canwego?", but this one did it. Everything (at least in the trailer) looks exactly how I'd want it to. When has that ever happened? Nite Owl's airship thingy: perfect! Rohrshach: creepy!
That three-year-old (me) doesn't know if he can wait 'til 2009. How many wake-ups is that?
Forgotten is the pain of finding out that Terry Gilliam wasn't going to direct it, and gone is my usual reluctance to shill for a major motion picture.

I'm auditioning to be the new WH press secretary

Let's be clear here. We're talking about a "time horizon", not a "timetable". I realize you might be confused, because a table is horizontal. Here's the difference, though: a table is right here, and you can put stuff on it. A horizon is always over there somewhere, which is why you can't put anything on it or bump into it when you go to get a snack in the middle of the night.

Let's say we're out sailing with Iraq, and Iraq says "Hey, just a question: when are these fucking troops leaving?". We now have an answer:
"See that line over there? When we get to that line".
So, let's review: timetable? No. Time horizon? Yes.

taking a wide stance on foreign oil

Larry Craig doesn't want you getting your nozzle jerked at the gas station.

Steve Guttenberg. Steve... Guttenberg.

These days, there is very little that makes me laugh out loud that isn't about 18" tall and carrying a stuffed octopus, but I just read this Observer interview with Steve Guttenberg and, though I can't quite put my finger on why, I found it guffawish:

The Goot does have his vices.

“I indulge in wine, and I love vodka, I do,” he said. “And I love scotch, you know. And I love weed. And I love women. And I do have, you know, those … Addiction is such an overused word."

Hah!

And how's your career going, Steve?

“I go in spurts,” he said.

Well, Steve, you're 49. You can't expect the same steady stream you had when you were younger.
But how's your career going?

laughing at a belief

I'm almost loath to keep throwing words at Covergate, but I think it points to some things that perennially get the Grizzly goat, so, a few thoughts.

I'm very tired of being painted as an elitist or somehow out of touch with America because I have, and expect my fellow Americans to have, a slight tendency towards thoughtfulness. It has been my hope that an Obama presidency might be a harbinger or catalyst towards bringing us out of these anti-intellectual Dark Ages we've plunged ourselves into. Although I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the Obama campaign issued a "oh yeah, we're offended too 'cause we're as dumb as you are we promise" as a response, it does on some level disappoint.

Is it really naive to think there's a level of stupidity that doesn't deserve to be legitimized?

As usual, someone has expressed my view of Coverfuffle more astutely than I am able, and even though it's in Newsweek I think it's pretty good.

A few snippets that I found particularly noteworthy:

This line of reasoning--i.e., don't satirize something stupid because the people who believe it might be stupid enough to take you seriously--strikes me as painfully paternalistic.

Does it help Obama to have Blitt's sketch broadcast on television? Maybe not--which why his press shop lashed out...

...it's not Remnick's job to do what's best for Obama. The fact is there's nothing wrong with pointing out the absurdity of a rumor ("Obama is a Muslim") by amplifying it to ridiculous, obviously satirical proportions ("Obama is a Muslim who will dress in Islamist garb and worship bin Laden as president"). In fact, laughing at a worthless belief is one of the best ways to show that it isn't worth believing.


Please also see the Slate article linked in the Newsweek piece, wherein another "thing I wish I said" is said, by Jack Shafer:

Only weak thinkers fear strong images. The publication that convenes itself as a polite dinner party, serving only polenta and pureed peas, need not invite me to sup.

ah, nostalgia

I'd like to thank the MSM echo chamber for providing me with a sweetly nostalgic moment over the weekend. I was driving along thinking about the utter ridiculosity of the New Yorker "Covergate", when the Dire Straits' song "Money For Nothing" came on the radio.

I was transported back to high school, and the attempt to remain patient while I explained that Mark Knopfler, when he sang "that little faggot with the earring and the makeup", was portraying a character, was mocking that character's ignorance. See? No? Are ye completely daft?!

I was a pirate in high school.

Some things never change. I mean, I'm not a pirate any more, but jeez, people, are ye completely daft?!

I do so wish that Obama's reaction to the cover had been, "Oh, that's funny". I guess we don't want to offend the "offended" base...

under the sign of the water-carrier

That wonderful fourth column of ours at work:

WASHINGTON - The Senate finally is expected to pass a bill overhauling rules on secret government eavesdropping, completing a lengthy and bitter debate that pitted privacy and civil liberties concerns against the desire to prevent terrorist attacks.

Well, that is the debate as one side of it would like it framed, so you go, reporter/mouthpiece Pamela Hess!

he hates these cans!

I wonder what would've happened if her sign had read "I hate the gooks".

say it, Hitchens!

Repeat after me: women are funny!

the hippy-dippy weatherman signs off

You're no doubt aware that George Carlin is dead. He'll be missed.

Carlin was a curmudgeon, and I mean that in the sense that Jon Winokur means it:

They don't hate mankind, just mankind's absurdities. They're just as sensitive and soft-hearted as the next guy, but they hide their vulnerability beneath a crust of misanthropy.


Carlin suffered a bit from "originator's syndrome"-- the style of comedy he created was so often imitated by lesser lights that his own comedy suffered by association. And, though in recent years his bitterness sometimes threatened to overshadow the humor*, when he did make me laugh it was a howl.

Please honor his memory by treating your workmates to this obscenity-laden lecture.

*I have a small problem with comedians who are so angry they no longer feel the need to be funny. This is why I don't belong to the cult of Bill Hicks.

the delicious snack that's also great stuck up your nose!

Further to the "what do you have in your mouth" posting below:

To the folks at Lego's and Kellog's:

Think you're pretty funny, don't you?

Is Irwin Mainway behind this?

while you're on Craigslist...

...you may want to look for a new therapist.

toe canada

Sure, everyone's been having a good laugh about all the feet washing up in Canada, because here you've got two things which are always funny: feet and Canada. But let's not forget, these feet, all six of them, belonged to at least five different people (unless one or more of them had two right feet), people who are almost certainly dead, and people with loved ones and family who want to know what happened to them. Just because this story involves feet, and Canada, is that any reason to make light?

Aw, screw it:

"At first, the talk about it was really humorous, but as more feet turned up, the talk became sinister," she added. "These are pristine islands, not the place where you would expect to find a bunch of severed feet."

That's setting the bar for "pristine" a little low, innit?

baby q

I don't post enough of the "amusing kid stories", mostly 'cause, heck, how to choose? So I'm just going to periodically pick one at random, not by degree of amusement or timeliness.

Lil' Griz is in a "getting into everything" phase, which, if childhood phases had slogans, would have the slogan "What Do You Have in Your Mouth?". I fully expect this phase to last for about 18 years, with the things she could have in her mouth only getting worse. Anyway...

One symptom of this phase is that, in order to get something from a closet or the refrigerator, you have to plan your foray in advance so that you can open the door, grab what you need, and close the door before Speedy Gonzales zips in there and you're all like "didn't I have a kid around here somewhere?"

The other day I was checking in the refrigerator to see if we had a particular thing. Since I didn't know whether or not we had it, I couldn't plan my attack beforehand and instead had to keep the door open whilst I perused the shelves. I didn't find what I was looking for, and turned to close the door, when I discovered Oona standing next to me, facing the door-shelves where the condiments are, and licking the outside of a bottle of Country Sweet Sauce.

Well, Maury, we won't be needing that DNA test after all. She's mine, for sure.

Bush and the Pope: 2 wild & crazy guys, with bonus earworm

"Your eminence, you're looking good," Bush told the pope.

We can only hope he shot him with the finger-pistol, and winked.

BTW, that eminence front? It's a put-on.

Iffy Pop

Maybe you can't pop popcorn with your cellphone, but I bet you can get it as a ringtone. My question: If they don't make popcorn, what good are they? Shouldn't every technological device make popcorn? Who will join me in a boycott: no more non-popcorn-making devices! Or at least toast!
(via Titivil, and all over the place)

cue "dueling banjos"

Not in shot: Mom and Dad, waiting their turn.

never give up, never give up, never give up that... ship

I suspend, but do not concede. I support, but do not endorse. Ain't I somethin'?

Clinton prepared to declare on Saturday that she is supporting the Illinois senator, but she is not expected to officially endorse him or relinquish control of her delegates.

When reached for comment, "the fat lady" whispered "Can't talk. Vocal chords shot. May need to call in understudy".

our stupid world...

...and the stupid reporting on our stupid world:

Preparation H, the topical medication used to treat hemorrhoids, reportedly is catching fire as the latest "drug" to hit the New York City club scene.

I think they should print a correction:
In the June 3 edition, we incorrectly reported that Preparation H is catching fire. Preparation H is no more or less flammable than any other hemorrhoid cream. We apologize for any panic our article may have caused.

all this and...

Andy Rooney is annoying, but he has my everlasting respect for an interview I saw with him years ago in which he complained about Joe Piscopo's impression of him, claiming that he had actually never uttered the phrase "didja ever notice?". The great part was that he kept pronouncing the name "piss-POE-co". I think the interviewer tried to correct him, but he persisted. I'm quite certain he was doing it on purpose.
But his 60 Minutes segments seem to get awfuler and awfuler, 'til it looks like one day he's going to show up in a bathrobe and tell us that he just crapped in his hand. Thankfully , someone has come up with an exercise that converts these embarrassing segments into flaming bags of bulldada for your enjoyment.
Rooney is the new Garfield!

I look like a farmer, but I'm a lover

Earlier today I emailed a friend and asked him if he wanted to get together and build some cigar box guitars.
Then, just now, I found out Bo Diddley had passed on.
Besides the coincidence, I felt this one in my stomach. I've seen Bo perform three or four times, and he always put on a great show. When compared to others of his generation (I'm looking at you Mr. Berry) who had a tendency in later years to phone it in, Bo remained vital, entertaining, and hardworking. I saw him perform with Ron Wood once, and Wood was clearly there more for the partying than the music. Diddley shoved him off stage after a couple songs and gave us the set we'd paid for.

Somewhere there may be a recording of yours truly at 17, singing Who Do You Love with a friend's band on a live radio concert thingy. My friend said he didn't have the Bo Diddley rhythms in his veins, implication being that I did, but I think it was more like I was the only other kid in our high school who'd heard of him. Though for awhile there I was in danger of wearing out the grooves on my copy of Chess Records' His Greatest Sides collection. My parents, whose bedroom was directly below mine, can attest to that.

Diddley is a figure that has loomed large in my pantheon for most of my life. I'm sad that I won't see him perform again.

So, from Grizzly Dad to Diddley Daddy:
Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits. Rest in Peace.

"If I can find a Sharon Stone movie playing somewhere in China, I am going to not see it!"

In solidarity with the Chinese, I pledge not to go see any Sharon Stone movies, drink out of my Sharon Stone thermos, or attend any of the parties to which Sharon Stone invites me.
I would like to add that I have not played golf since the Iraq War began.


Might as well get to work on my Nobel acceptance speech...

"they're still not sure it IS a baby!"

It seems I must've heard about Half Man, Half Biscuit along the way somehow, but I now feel that I've been missing something after running across this video which pays tribute to one of my favorite films and is also a song about restless legs syndrome. How do I feel about this video? Well, if I were an octopus and this video were a bagpipe...

McLovin

When I was back there in seminary school, I used to nearly obsess over Scotty McLellan and his pathetic whirligigs in the briefing room. There were times when I almost felt sorry for the guy. He'd come out there with his hangdog, "Why's everybody always pickin' on me?" expression and not comment on ongoing investigations, even when the questions had nothing to do with ongoing investigations, and you knew that he knew that you knew he was lying most of the time, and it was, to borrow a Perot-ism, "just sad".

Now, though, as you all know, Scotty has released his sensational Haaaah-lywood tell-all including such bombshells as:

"[George Bush]signed off on a strategy for selling the war that was less than candid and honest" .

Hrumph. Well, Scotty, I think your editor should have caught this, but you use "less than" when talking about degree, not in describing two different beasts. An apple is not "less than" an orange, an aardvark is not "less than" a motor scooter. So, you're still lying, and this renders your mea culpa less than consequential. Shove it up your ass.

Anytime a former administrationchik blabs about the miscreancy of GWB and Co., the White House expresses its morose assessment, which boils down to "those grapes are sour! We don't understand why! One day he's out in the yard catching frisbees, the next he's digging up our flowerbed!". Or, in the grandiloquent phraseology of Dana Perino:

"We are puzzled. It is sad. This is not the Scott we knew."

Has anybody here seen my old friend Scott?

This blogger pictures Perino, immediately following that line, adding "we are puzzled and sad but twirling, always twirling toward freedom" and then peeling her face off to reveal that she's a drooling space alien.

I'm going to try to use "We are puzzled. It is sad" regularly in my speech, like when I drop a plate of scrambled tofu on the floor.

So Scott, now that you're a writer you're probably looking for models in the field that you can emulate. I've always liked Hemingway and Hunter Thompson, myself.

farcebook

Steven Spielberg is creating a social networking site "dedicated to those who have had paranormal experiences, and users will be encouraged to share their own extraterrestrial encounters". I'm reminded of an old Lily Tomlin bit about pairing up street crazies who talk to themselves so that it appears that they're talking to each other.
Or, as it is phrased more succinctly by a wise-ass commenter on io9:
Don't we already have this and it's called "the internet"?

oh snap!

I'm pretty grumpy today, so all the more appreciative of the occasional chuckle, found just now at Alicublog:
"...the fact remains: libertarians stand too close to you when they talk, sing along with Frank Zappa songs (even the obscure ones), and smell".

One

In just under an hour, Oona will be one year old. I can't believe it's been a year already.
Time and again, Mrs. Griz has turned to me during especially adorable Oona-moments and said:
"And you thought you didn't want to have kids".
Time and again, I've answered:
"I didn't know we were gonna have this one".


Thanks, kid. Happy Birthday!

Why a Duck?

My daughter's first word (After "Mama", of course, but it could have been before "Dada") was "duck". At least we think that's what it was. With the mouths on her parents, it could've been something else. Let's go with "duck".
So I feel duty bound to link to this.

And if you enjoy that sort of thing, you'll like the Fortean Times simulacra photos (try Bugmenot password possibleyeti), home of the Cappuccino Antelope.

from the darkest depths of medieval America

"You've been accused of wizardry".

Y'know when Hillary Clinton talks about people with "elite opinions"? These are the people she is not talking about.

"Reason for leaving last job: accused of wizardry".

The real question, of course: is he or is he not a wizard? I know he's tried to talk about it but he hasn't looked anybody in Pasco County in the eye and told them...

gimme three steps, or, "if you could walk this way you'd still need the talcum powder"

It walks!*
Three steps seems to be the magic number, then the ass hits the floor. The obvious reaction is to think about all the chasing that will ensue, except that it's hard to imagine that her walking speed will exceed her crawling speed, which is remarkably fast, anytime soon. She crawls like the wind- the walk is like a tiny little Frankenstein's monster lurching your way.

*we don't yet have photographic proof to present, so the above photo of Oona's "chimp walk" will have to suffice for illustration purposes.

say "Hi" to your mother

Tom Waits, as you might expect, gives good press conference:

No more kings

This is it! Grizzly Dad's official endorsement for President in the 2008 election:
The envelope please...
Barack Obama!

I'm sure this comes as no surprise, as much as I'm sure you've all been thinking about which candidate I'm endorsing, but nevertheless it seems appropriate or maybe just therapeutic to talk about my reasoning.

And maybe "reasoning" is the wrong word.

A recurring criticism from the other candidates is that Obama is all hat no horse (or however that expression goes). He invokes such abstractions as "hope" and "change", but offers no real solutions. I think, though, that if you go beyond the speeches and read his actual platform statements you'll find that he does have plans and schemes to go with his hopes and dreams. But he's smart enough to know that, in a rally-type situation, the idea is to inspire. And we desperately need inspiration.

In listening to and reading news media's assessments of the popular mindset on particular issues, fear seems to be a recurring theme. Yesterday a commenter on the radio mentioned that Americans are "scared" of rising gas prices. It seems that during previous energy crises this would not have been the word to describe to describe our reaction. "Concerned", "worried", "angry", yes. "Scared" of rising gas prices? Why, that sounds, how should I put it, kind of chicken-shit, don't it? We're scared of gas prices, immigrants, terrorists, pastors, school shoot-em-ups, empty lapels, the war on Christmas. We're a very afraid citizenry these days.

This doesn't sit well with a vision of America that resides somewhere in my brain. I was 8 in 1976, and America had caught Bicentennial fever. We were all feeling pretty patriotic, but it was a different flavor of patriotism- it had roller skates and a disco beat, and celebrated a narrative in which a brave bunch of ragtag colonialists decided to defy an authoritarian regime. Because of the brave defiance of our forefathers, we had the freedom to wear our jogging shorts a little too short and have rocks as pets, and our comics could be unknown and our devil could be out-fiddled. We were silly, to be sure, but we weren't scared.

On Saturday mornings we sang along to Schoolhouse Rock, which described a version of American History in this vein. No More Kings made George III a father-figure trying to keep his adolescent kids in check, The Shot Heard 'Round the World celebrated the Minute Men as a grassroots movement that took up arms against a conservative (in the sense of "traditional" government using techniques that we might convincingly label as "terrorist" (gasp!). The Great American Melting Pot celebrated our history of immigration.

It's hard to hear these songs now and not have the sneaking suspicion that, in today's climate, all the above themes would be glossed over or condemned outright instead of emphasized. I'm reminded of a line from a Grammar Rocks piece on interjections: "Hooray, I'm for the other team!".

Yeah, Schoolhouse Rock was propaganda, and probably not entirely historically accurate, but the propaganda element worked on me to the extent that my image of Americans persists wherein we don't scare easy, we don't take the easy way out, we aren't afraid of the "other" (because we ARE the "other"), and we value individual freedom for all, all the time, not just when we're feeling secure.

And I have to ask myself "does Hillary Clinton reflect that image?".
You don't need my answer. Ask yourself the question, and I'm 99% certain you're answer will be the same as mine.

Whether or not you're an enthusiastic supporter, I think you have to admit that Obama does reflect this image. And so he gets my support.
Is it all image? Though I'm sure there's an element of grooming involved, I don't think he's all hat. He's horse too, and in my mind that horse's rider is a cartoon Paul Revere. And he's wearing roller-skates with red, white and blue pompoms.

Pope to bishops: "Alter, boys!"

So the Pope took a really hard line about this pedophilia stuff that's popped up in the last ten or twenty years, chastising the Church's power elite for their tendency to cover up or brush aside allegations of abuse. Said Il Popito,
"And if I ever see this Ratzinger guy, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind. Why, he's just about the worst of the bunch. What an asshole!".

lidsville

I like my hat.
(via Czeltic Girl)

It's funny- I love pranks, but I hate effort.

It looks like I'm going to let another April 1 come and go without playing a prank on any of my friends. This might be a good thing. My roommate in 1994 (or thereabouts) didn't think it was all that funny when I reeled into the apartment holding my ribs and coughing up blood from the capsule I'd hidden in my mouth, claiming that I'd just been jumped and finally, just as he had the phone in his hand to call the police, telling him to "make sure you tell them what day it is". Of course, since then I really have been jumped and it's not as funny as you'd think!
So, I dunno. What's that huge spider doing on our shoulder? Did I get ya?

Also:

9/11 Conspiracy Theories 'Ridiculous,' Al Qaeda Says

Cthulu and friends!

Once in a while I get it into my head that I'm gonna write a children's book. Just for my own kid's entertainment, mind you. I'm not looking to be the next Jamie Lee Curtis. But then I start sketching out ideas, and I don't get too far before I realize that the harder I try to concoct a sunny, optimistic tale, what comes out just gets more and more... unsettling? Even I don't like to look at it:
"Holy shit, the eyes on this bunny grocer are freakin' me out" *crumple crumple toss*.

Y'know who I bet could relate to this? The folks who designed these playgrounds.

I'm Designed Only for Killing, so don't even think about it, mister

Head over to March MODOK Madness to check out my Aquapets-inspired contribution. Oh yeah- and a bunch of stuff by folks who can actually draw.

that's right, Edna

You may have run across this in your travels:


It kind of reminds me of, but out-weirds, Tex and Edna Boil from good ol' SCTV:


Now we've all had a good laugh and can go back to talking/thinking/reading about Governor Bareback Steamroller.

from the desk of Grizzly Dad

Memo to people who issue "severe weather" alerts:
We live in western New York State. An inch or two of snow from 4pm today to 8am Sunday is not a "winter storm". An inch or two of snow over 36 hours is called "snowing, some".
Take that "Winter Storm Warning" down, unbunch your panties, and issue a "It is snowing, some".

Scarf sniffers are total creeps

This guy's sketches might not make you laugh. Or, you might know from funny. Then you will laugh, 'til work's over.

Cleveland rocks. As long as you stay away from that glass pyramid.

I see where they've got the 2008 list of inductees into the "rock" and "roll" hall of fame, there. Madonna and John Mellencamp, eh? Hm. Two cougars in one year!
I know rock and roll is not a clear cut genre, but I for one don't think I'd classify anything Madonna's ever done as rock and roll. I mean, you wouldn't induct, say, Jackson Brown into a rock and roll hall of fame, would you? Maybe if there was a Adult Contemporary hall of fame or something, but certainly not rock and roll. Certainly you would never-
What's that? They WHAT? No.

Well, see you next year when they induct Mariah Carey and Tom Cochran.

Whistle while you arbeiten

Sleepy, Grumpy, Dopey...Genocidal?

who gets Family Circus? Not me!

When I came into work this morning, yesterday's paper was sitting on a desk, open to the funny pages. I spent a good five minutes looking at this, trying to discern its meaning. I know Family Circus is never funny, but there's a difference between a joke that's not funny and a joke that you can't find.
So I decided to employ the series of tubes and found that yesterday's strip is part of a series. The idea of the series appears to be "let's draw a snowman". Yesterday's is the only snowman, of the three or four that I looked at, that is based on a real person. It is also missing its arms. So maybe the joke is "If Larry King were a snowman I bet his arms would melt off". 'Cause he rolls his sleeves up, right?
Actually, I say that yesterday's was the only one based on a real person, but I could be wrong. Today's strip is either Mussolini or Hitler. At the airport.
This is giving me a headache.
To the Keanes I say, "Bring back Ghost Grandpa! THAT is funny!".

Oh, parc

I'm trying to come up with a word that describes my feeling upon reading this list of the top 100 baby names of 2007. Let's go with "dismay". Yes.
I can try all day to convince myself it's just a coincidence that numbers 64 and 65 on the girls' list are Kate and Ashley, but I just don't think it's going to take. And then there's number 76, also on the girl's list: Nevaeh.
I don't have statistics on how many babies were born in 2007, but to get on the top 100 I would think that A WHOLE BUNCH of people must have chosen this name. In case you didn't get that, look at it again:
Nevaeh.

Yes, that's "Heaven" backwards.

Apparently, all the boys born in 2007 were named after athletes: Peyton, Nolan, Brady, etc.
At least it's better than 2003, when the number one boys name was "Seabiscuit". I may have made that up.

"forget it, Jake. It's Elmo's World"or, "It's Elmos' World, we just live in it"

My complaint about children's entertainment these days is... well, I have several: it's overly didactic, it's unimaginative, everything has the appearance of clearing several screening commitees that make sure there's nothing potentially offensive or interesting, the music is terrible, I could go on.
But I think my chief complaint is the unrelenting glee. There's no let-up to the mood, nothing a little melancholy or subdued, it's just happy happy joy joy until an adult could be forgiven for feeling the temptation to steal a child's favorite toy. Not that I would do that.
One of the worst offenders here is Elmo's World. Elmo, for the uninitiated, is (IIRC) Grover's nephew, who, "All About Eve"-like, worked his way out from his uncle's tutelage to usurp him in the Sesame Street spotlight. He's a giggly little punk with nothing interesting to say, ever, and he's a one-note symphony: everything's inexplicably funny to him, and he loves everyone and everything (why did it get through committee, this anthropomorphizing of inanimate objects like drawers and televisions, I don't know).
The worst part? Kids love the little red bastard. I mean L-U-V love. So, you know, we parents surrender to such amour. Maybe this is practice for the day my daughter brings home some snotty Eddie Haskell type for me to glare at through dinner as he tells my wife what a lovely dress she's wearing.
Fortunately, I've found an antidote I can turn to after a day of Elmo loving his goldfish, his crayons too.
Behold, the antidote.

Two questions

Why do aliens get free downloads when I have to pay?

"The man behind the idea... now hopes to convert alien life forms to The Beatles". Is this some kind of sneaky viral ad for that new remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers?

bookshelf of broken dreams

I've just been unpacking books as I set up the new library/office, and have been disheartened to come across several books that were obviously purchased as part of some fleeting interest or pursuit that never really materialized.
A sampling: A Beginner's Guide to Pinhole Photography, Close-Up Magic for Beginners, Sewing for Dummies.
Maybe I should just put those back in the box.

rubber ducky, you're the one

A visual representation of Grizzly Dad's mood this coffee-less morning.

Carry on.