Here is what I am thinking right now. Technically, this is a "weblog", or "blog", but that sounds like a throw-up noise. If you would like to comment on anything here, please click on the date for that Random Thought. Mazel tov.
04.01.03: APRIL FOOLS!! Yeah, yeah, I know, you now officially hate my guts. Take it easy, it's just a fuckin' joke. You should have known better when I said that I was up since "8 in the morning". I NEVER get up at 8 in the morning. I get up at noon, at the earliest. So, here's the deal. It is now official. THERE IS NO NUDITY CODE. I'm as pissed off as you are. I'm just trying to make sure you don't get taken in by bullshit.
Anyway, to make it up to you, I've posted a new Tailothepup song in Stick This In Your Ear. It's a track from the upcoming album, entitled "The Age Of The Shrug". A hundred points if you catch where the title comes from. Hopefully you'll feel the calming effects of the tune, and you'll take out your April Fools' rage on somebody else, like a meter maid or something.
03.31.03: Holy flappin' crappin' Jebus, this weekend was frigging AWESOME. I rented a car and we trucked up to Arlington VA, getting a speeding ticket (what else) in the process. I completely sold out of all the Invisible Inc. pieces I had at the Art-O-Mat show at the Ellipse Art Center (Tailothepup Foreign Accents CDs sold too!), and got to meet and share ideas with a whole bunch of other Art-O-Mat artists. We visited nearby Washington DC, and as we wandered wantonly around our nation's capitol Saturday evening, I delighted White House protesters by being the only motorist to "Honk For Peace". We got blooped at by a cop car as we attempted to photograph the Jefferson Memorial. We got drunk. A lot. Which is grand, when you combine it with energy drinks and sleep deprivation. And a hotel in which to run amuck at all hours.
We got to see some serious snow, too, enough to wad up and pelt each other in the nuts with. This is great for us Atlantans who don't get to see the flaky white stuff too often. It was crazy- it was actually snowing HARD, where big globs of snow would whack you in the face as you innocently walked along. And the majestic mountains of Virginia were all the more breath-taking topped with snow.
I'm glossing over a lot of the great stuff from the trip, since I'm still totally exhausted. We took lotsa pictures, so maybe I'll bore you with a Flash slide show one of these days. Much thanks to Clark and everyone else in AIC; it was a real honor not only to set up shop in an honest-to-goshes metropolitan art gallery (and to be included in a kick-ass slide show retrospective!), but to completely sell out of pieces on top of everything. I'll get the new figure pics posted soon- I just passed the 100 mark, and I can't wait to show you what's in store for the next 100. New packaging, new surprises, not to mention even more 100% one-of-a-kind figures. And remember, you can order them directly from here! (Along with lots of other stuff you might like!) So stay tuned.
Okay. I can't hold my head up any longer. Off to bed.
03.28.03: Well, I'm off to Virginny for the weekend! The lack of daily updates is due to the fact that I've been working pretty much nonstop to get ready: on Saturday the 29th, I'll be at the Ellipse Arts Center in Arlington, VA to be part of Artists In Cellophane's "Meet The Artists". If you're in the neighborhood, swing on by, I'll be there from 1 pm to 5 pm with lots of Invisible Inc. stuff. You can read more about it at the Art-O-Mat website. I'll be taking lots of pictures, so be here on Monday and I'll tell you how it went (if you couldn't make it). See you then.
03.25.03: The Oscars were on a couple nights ago. To be honest, if they hadn't pre-empted The Simpsons for some idiot Jeff Goldblum dinosaur movie, I wouldn't have even noticed. I hate the Oscars. To me they symbolize everything wrong with the motion picture industry. In high school I knew kids on the yearbook design team that were far less petty and capricious than the fucking Academy. I'd love to subvert from within somehow, and win the Oscar for Best Actor, just so I could deliver this speech:
"Welcome, pigs, to my career swandive! I'd just like to say that the Academy is a pile of brainless, pole-smoking howler monkeys. Thank you for this meaningless, gold-plated dildo of a statue. I plan to slather it in Vaseline and pay Bruce Vilanch to sit on it. I am honored to be a part of this preposterously decadent popularity contest that represents everything our foreign enemies despise about us. I'm so excited that I can scarcely clench my buttocks enough to keep the blood from running down my legs. You like me, you really like me! You jabbering lot of fart-sniffing wasted orgasms, I wish I had a gas chamber big enough for all of you!"
Except maybe I'd pull a Marlon Brando, and have somebody read my remarks in my stead. Unlike Brando, however, I wouldn't pay some nobody actress to pretend she's a Native American; instead I'd find the stinkiest, most disease-ridden wacked-out crack-whore I could scrounge up to say all that stuff. And I'd cram her so full of rancid Taco Bell dumpster goodies and methadone that she'd puke all over Meryl Streep. She'd turn the Oscars into an orgy of vomit. She'd keep it off of Joan Rivers though, for I find her red carpet coverage sassy and biting. Melissa Rivers might get horked on, however. Maybe the smell of barf will hide the stench of obsequiousness.
Okay, you're probably thinking, that's a lot of bile for such a useless, empty ceremony. I have one word for you. 1995. The year a movie about a chocolate-gobbling, borderline retard who bumbles down the Path of Least Resistance, beat out a film about an innocent man who survives a merciless prison sentence and uses his brains to get the better of his tormentors, for the Best Picture Oscar. I don't care if you like Forrest Gump. If you honestly think that morass of rejected Hallmark-card homilies and Clutch Cargo-esque computer-animation bastardry is a better film than The Shawshank Redemption, the terrorists have won.
The central message of Forrest Gump is "Stupid is as stupid does." (I do bristle at that phrase largely because I knew a stuck-up girl in high school who submitted "Beauty is as beauty does" as her senior yearbook quote. Cunt. Wait a minute... why do I keep bringing up high school, and yearbooks?!?) The central message of The Shawshank Redemption is that, if you believe in yourself, not even decades of forced sodomy and a mile-long river of shit can keep you from fulfillment. What hardships did Forrest Gump overcome? His slutty, hippie-caricature girlfriend getting some mysterious (though not unglamorous, of course) AIDS-like disease? His best friend dying in that Disneyland-ride version of the Vietnam War? Getting shot in the ass?
Compare the climaxes of both films. (I'm assuming you've seen them. If not, read no further. I'm gonna SPOIL THEM.) Sure, a lot of people choked up at the sight of Forrest Gump and L'il Junior waiting for the bus. It's just like the beginning of the movie, with that shitty Alan Silvestri piano mush! Ah, the circle of life, she is neverending, no? Now think of Shawshank's closer, where Morgan Freeman at long last finds Tim Robbins mending a boat on a beach somewhere. If they hadn't tacked that silent little epilogue on there, I would've opened a vein. I HAD to see these two friends reunited, after what they'd been through. In Shawshank there are sense-shattering meditations on life, death, loss, pain and beauty, all the things that make us humans, and strong ones. It is inspirational without being obvious or heavy-handed. Even beyond all that, it is brilliantly written, acted and directed. I find myself moved to tears at LEAST three or four times during its hefty running time. (I found the river-of-shit sequence, with its subsequent rain-baptism, a perfect metaphor for my divorce.) It was the BEST PICTURE of 1994. (Don't even bring up that mindless two-hour parade of gimmicks and catch-phrases Pulp Fiction.) Why didn't it win... DUH, BEST PICTURE?
Because, like I've taken four eternities to say here, the Academy sucks. 1995 was the year I lost all faith in the movie industry. My hate grew worse in 1998, when Titanic (all due respect to James Cameron's insanely anal attention to details) beat out L.A. Confidential (not to mention Guy Pearce, Kevin Spacey and Russell Crowe- doing some of, if not THE, finest work of their careers- all snubbed). It positively seethed in 1999, when the RenFaire fantasy trifle Shakespeare In Love took the prize over the Spielberg's flat-out astonishing Saving Private Ryan (though it did get some consolation prizes). Sure, I calmed down a bit when the sublime and dolorous American Beauty took home the little gold man in 1999, but past injuries have ensured that I don't even acknowledge the Oscars anymore. I don't even know who won this year. I sure didn't see anything last year that blew me away that would be considered "Oscar-worthy". Whatever won didn't have Hobbits in it, or an elf jumping backwards onto a horse's saddle, so I just didn't give a fuck. I think it was that musical with all the guns and jiggling boobs, and that guy who keestered a gerbil back in the day. Ecch. God bless America.
I did hear about this though. Ah, thank goodness for celebrities and their big fucking mouths. You know what they say about opinions, they're like assholes, everybody's got one. Too bad everyone doesn't have as many assholes as they do opinions these days (myself included). The world would be even more full of shit than it already is.
Sorry about running off at the mouth there. I've got a trip to Virginia coming up this weekend with the Art-O-Mat Project, so I'll be missing some entries while I'm on the road. I figured I'd make up for it now. That's my excuse, anyway. I'll keep you posted about the trip.
03.23.03: Today I took an old jacket out of my closet and wore it like pants. The thing was just so... wrong as a jacket that I slid my legs into it, figuring "what the hey". The odd thing is, they seemed to work better as pants than a jacket. Except the part that's the back of the jacket hangs down in a weird way, so that I either look like a weirdo samurai, or Lord of the Two-Foot Penis. I'd post a picture, but hey, even I know better than that. I've seen too many Photoshop contests, as well as Cliff Yablonski Hates You. No thanks. You'll just have to take my word on the hilariousness of the jacket pants.
Okay, I posted a picture, horribly drawn for attempted comedic effect, but still, you really had to be there. Maybe I'll run amuck at the mall dressed like this and you'll see it on the news. Until then, here.
03.22.03: Curious, I poked about on the internet after hearing Bush refer to his mysterious "Coalition of the Willing". You know, the 40 countries that supposedly "have America's back" for this whole war-on-Iraq thing.
Here it is (as of this writing, who knows, it may change). We may not have France on our side, but hey! We've got Eritrea! Did you even know there was a country called "Eritrea"? Because I didn't. I'm not saying I'm an ace in geography or anything, but I think they made that one up. Plus I knew a kid in grade school who had eritrea, and he had to go to the nurse's office a lot, and take these horse pills. Actually, I'm kidding. It's late. I don't want to offend any Eritreans who might be reading. But if you are out there, reading this in Eritrea, please email me and tell me where you are. I will spread the word of Eritrea, I will.
03.21.03: Maybe you haven't heard, but apparently Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks made a remark about how embarrassed she is that our president was from their home state, while on stage in England. So now the Dixie Chicks' music is being banned from radio stations. Particularly in South Carolina (sigh...). And a state representative from South Carolina says that Maines' subsequent apology wasn't worth jack, and that the Chicks should play a free concert in S.C. to make up for everything. Okay... did I miss a meeting? Because that's bullshit. I'm not a Dixie Chicks fan (we live near a country station's tower, and our cordless phone picks them up loud and clear, especially the Chicks' god-awful version of "Landslide"), but that's frigging bullshit. She spoke her opinion, you know, that whole freedom-of-speech we Americans are supposedly all about, and now she's being punished for it.
Folks, let's not insult the men and women who are caught up in this miserable conflict with this kind of boobery. Especially when we have the legendary leader of the Autobots on our side. Do it for Prime.
03.18.03: Here's my little PSA for my fellow Xbox owners: If you have Dead Or Alive Xtreme Beach Volleyball, and you went searching on the internet for that Holy Grail of cheat codes (the one that makes everybody naked): it doesn't exist. There is a cheat making the rounds that tells you to rush through the game in 13 minutes. It is an early April Fools' joke. It does not work. If you're dying to see these ladies in the all-together, the closest you can come is this:
"Play as a girl with the Gimlet (Helena), Emu (Leifang), Carnelian (Christie) or another suit with a transparent part. Also wear a transparent visor. Go to the pool and allow your girl to lay on the chair until the menu disappears. Move the camera so that you are looking at the girl's body through the visor. The swimsuit will not be visible through the visor, but the girl's skin will. Small stars can be seen censoring her body. Each girl's stars appears different."
So you gotta put up with Lucky Charms where nips would be. It's still pretty cool (I tested it). It takes some serious doin' to line the girl up right (remember you can freeze the camera angle by clicking the right thumbstick), but a lot of what you see is fairly convincing. Helena had little stars, and every so often they'd kind of look like nipples for a second. Okay, I'm starting to sound really pervy and desperate, so I'm gonna shut up now. I'll post more good game codes as I find them. Here's some other "cheats" for DOAX. Don't get your hopes up.
Meanwhile, in John's Arm news, he's been busier than I realized- he's starting to pop up in other people's cartoons! Which I think is really freakin' cool. (I mean, within reason, that wasn't an invitation to rip me off.) Here's an animation where the Five-Fingered One gets some good-natured ribbing. I thought this was hilarious. If you know what's it's like to slave away on an animation, then cast it off to the wolves by posting it to be judged on a site like NewGrounds, you'll laugh your ass off too.
03.17.03: Happy St. Patrick's Day! And in case you'd like to spend it listening to tinny MIDI music while reading pithy quotes about beer, I found this link for you. I found this link for you in case you just want the quotes, but no music. Here's a link for you if you take the "green" in "green beer" literally. Here's a link for those of you who took "green" literally, but in a different way.
How about that! All that work I did for you, and on a holiday, even!
Eh, who am I kidding. I just typed "green beer" into a search engine and that's some of what I got. Still, it took a little effort.
03.16.03: The man who brought us the Home of the Surly Shirtless Dude (and inspired his mulleted spokesman, Ronnie Dobbs), the long-running reality show Cops, has apparently fallen from a cliff in Oregon and is believed dead. You can read more about it here.
03.15.03: Okay, before I get started on this entry, I just want to state emphatically that I don't believe war with Iraq is the right way to go. S'awright? S'awright. That said, I really wish we had a legitimate protester (or group of protesters) on the matter. Here's why I say this. Alright... so you're naked. Lord knows, naked people get so much respect on political matters. This looks to me like using impending war as an excuse for exhibitionism. You know, "Gee, I always wanted to show off my titties, but on something more respectable that a Girls Gone Wild video". Stripping on a website does not cause change of any kind. It doesn't bring peace. It causes you to get traffic from all sorts of pervy websites, and get gawked at by internet porn enthusiasts who don't give a fuck about war as they spackle their keyboards with man-mustard.
Don't get me wrong. I like looking at naked women more than anybody, even Howard Stern. But scrawling "No War" on your jugs with a Sharpie isn't going to bring about anything but disrespect for anti-war sentiment, as well as the wrong kind of attention. You want to really make a difference? Try taking a few months and doing some serious research on the matter, and working yourself into a position where Dubya may actually listen to what you have to say with those big ol' ears of his.
Then rip off your top and give him a hard-core "Brunski", bashing him into submission with your boobs. A couple good claps to the ears with those fleshy wrecking balls of yours, and he'll forget Iraq even existed. You'll be a hero. Instead of a scrawled-on naked chick on a would-be amateur porn site. They say bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity. Stripping for peace is just stripping.
Maybe I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.
03.14.03: Yesterday I hit the record for the most hits I've had in a day since I opened up this site: over 27,000. Sure, that way not seem like much for a lot of sites, but this is more of a Mom-and-Pop site (just without the Mom, and with no ads or pop-ups), and I'm pretty freakin' jazzed. So I've got some new material in the works, including a fourth John's Arm feature (though that's a ways off, lemme tell you), and of course the upcoming new Pup album. And for those of you who've helped defray site costs by picking up an exclusive John's Arm t-shirt, I thank you.
Guys- having trouble getting a date? Try sweating around the chickies.
03.13.03: John's Arm Update: Have you ever wished you could fool your friends into thinking you spent your spring break in lovely, polluted Atro City, the stinking stomping grounds of John's Arm and Ultra Ocho? Heads up, now you can! Click here to order official, LIMITED EDITION John's Arm postcards to mail to your friends! They're cheap, and they help defray the mounting costs of this site! And hey, if you're feeling generous (or naked), why not buy a LIMITED EDITION John's Arm "Damn Your Nachos!" T-shirt while you're there? They won't be around forever, so act now!
Sorry about the slowdown in entries: it actually wasn't my fault this time. For some mystical reason stuff wouldn't upload to my host. Yeah, lots of fun.
We got the two Jackass DVDs, and boy oh boy are they hilarious. So far only the second and third seasons have been released (maybe that's a good thing for now, my stomach STILL hurts from laughing so hard): the possibly-apocryphal scuttlebutt is that the first season is "lost". More likely, it was just a legal nightmare to put it out for sale on DVD- I noticed a lot of the music was changed from the original shows. Plus the nudity is still blurred (not that I really want to see more of Chris Pontius' goddamn ass-crack), and the cuss-words are still bleeped. What's up with that? Would it have been so hard to release the shows uncut?
In any case, the DVDs are still very much worth having (Tony Hawk and Mat Hoffman both do loop-de-loops on board and bike, respectively, and in chicken constumes: Bam Margera doesn't, and nearly concusses himself into oblivion). You can order them here. Don't bother with the "Trivia Quiz" though, unless you feel like wasting your time.
03.12.03: Okay, here's proof that the seemingly inevitable war with Iraq is driving many folks in the good ol' US of A a little nutty: "Freedom Fries". That's right: many restaurants, respectable restaurants in many cases, that don't appear to be run by braying morons, are trading the "french" in "french fries" for "freedom" (due to France's opposition to the conflict). French toast is now "freedom toast". So, we can only assume, when you cram your tongue down your girlfriend's throat, you are now "freedom kissing". The plastic guide I use to draw swoopy lines and such is called a "freedom curve". Gene Hackman starred as Popeye Doyle in "The Freedom Connection". And make sure you get this straight: a condom with little rubber feelers on the end is now called a "freedom tickler".
(I just found out from my housemates that the "freedom tickler" joke was already made on last night's Daily Show. Damn you, Jon Stewart and you other brilliant bastards! I was so friggin' proud of myself for that semi-decent naughty joke! Ah... c'est la vie...)
Oh well. Here's a tiny bit of evidence that our president can occasionally do something right.
03.11.03: It's official: Cartoon Network's Adult Swim is getting Family Guy. At long last, you won't have to do any voodoo or anything to predict when an episode will magically appear next. It's gonna be on almost every weekday night, after Futurama following April 20th. So there. Here's proof.
Now, if I could only get Adult Swim to pick up John's Arm. I'd be happy as a hamster in a Habitrail.
03.09.03: I used to keep a $2 bill in my wallet for luck. Don't ask, it's a long story I don't feel like going into. Anyway, I was doing my annual wallet-cleanout, you know, getting rid of all the business cards from people who don't get back to me, or whose guts I hate, or whom I don't remember who the fuck they are, and I came across the bill. I took it out, but i haven't spent it yet. I don't know if I will. Why does it seem so strange to spend a $2 bill? What makes them so mysterious? It's like the small collection of Sacajawea dollars I accumulated a few years back. What the hell am I supposed to do with those? What if I go to the store with my Sacajaweas and my $2 bill, and the cashier thinks I'm using fake money and calls a cop?
Before you write me off as paranoid, read this. And go get some regular-lookin' money, for Pete's sake.
03.07.03: Happy Cinco De Mayo! Yeah, I- what? It's not the fifth? Oh man, I thought for sure I-- wait a second, it's March? Not May?! Damn. I'm drunk. Goddamn Mardi Gras. Oh well, have a happy Siete De Marcho anyway, eh? Sure.
And while you're partying away on Siete De Marcho, why not swing by the MTP Crapmarket. There's brand new limited edition John's Arm T-shirts for sale there, and a NEW MTP newsletter you can sign up for (just click the box on the left column) that will alert you to future sale items. And get this- every issue of the MTP Monthly Mess you recieve is written by a different supervillain! Hey, they need work too! Check it out!
03.04.03: Wow. I gotta wicked stomachache. Today we all bought a bunch of ingredients and made huge sub sandwiches. Like Dagwood Bumstead-style Hindenburg sandwiches. Massive carbo-monsters with pastrami and garlic pickles for innards. Well, I finished mine a little while ago, and boy is it kicking my ass. Damn. Who was I to fool with pastrami. Sick as a dog. And I haven't even had to sit through the commercial for that god-awful pinch-loaf The Core.
Ugh... I'm gonna go lie down. Here's a picture of Jennifer Love Hewitt for you to look at. I can't come up with anything better. The indigestion is drawing blood away from my brain. Arf.
Here's today's reason why J. Lo sucks... and why the Jackass guys rule.
03.03.03: Hey, how 'bout that? "03.03.03". A date that, when abbreviated in that way, can be instantly understood by Americans, Japanese, and citizens of the United Kingdom alike. I swear, everybody's gotta move the month around, so I'm thinking "What do they think is the 25th month?!" when I read it. So today is truly a day of unity. And pancakes. And hot, stinky ACTION.
An another note, was anybody else incredibly disappointed with last night's episode of The Simpsons? Don't get me wrong, I love the Simpsons more than anybody really should, I guess, but I just didn't think it was funny. And the new episodes have been so great. But I actually started surfing websites while last night's show was on. I can't recall a single funny line from it. Eh, maybe it was just me. But how could a show about Ned Flanders dating a movie star fall so flat?
Anyway, there's a Tailothepup "work-in-progress" called "HCHO" on the Stick This In Your Ear! banner. Check it out- it's not 100% finished, but it's almost there. Also, there's a new link in the Link-O-Rama: Tomorrow's Nobody. Take a look, there's lots of funny animations there.
And, of course, here's today's reason why Jennifer Lopez sucks, courtesy of the Smoking Gun.
03.02.03: I learned yesterday, from MTV of all places, that the lifespan of a Twinkie is NOT a million years, as is commonly thought, but actually... are you ready for this? 30 days. However, I learned as a kid that if you wrap a Twinkie in a couple of paper towels and put it in a microwave for two minutes, not only does the creme inside disappear, but it appears as though cake has grown in its place. Spooky. And speaking of spooky Twinkies...
Apparently E! is whoring out Anna Nicole Smith tonight on her show. A bunch of oh-so-lucky bachelors will compete for her ten-ton affections. Yesterday E! sent some guy over to her house to interview her about it, and he asked her if "sex is important". She replied, "Sex is very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very..." You get the idea. She repeated "very" about fourteen thousand times, with increasing intensity and ardor, until the reporter, probably fearing sudden and painful rape from this gelatinous Sasquatch of a former Guess model, pulled the microphone away from her. Here's a tip for Anna Nicole: if you're not going to make yourself at least somewhat attractive to the opposite sex (at least the non-blind ones), there are places you can call where you can pay a man to come over and penetrate your birth canal for a few minutes. I saw the Chicken Lady on Kids In The Hall do it a bunch of times, and she was half-chicken for fuck's sake. You have more than enough money to do it. And I don't think you've got the public's opinion to worry about if they found out, either. Trust me, they don't care. They're laughing at you, not with you. At you, really hard.
I don't want anybody to think I'm down on fat people either. Face it: Anna Nicole is morbidly obese. She's not "pleasantly plump" like Kelly Osbourne, or "big-boned" like Liv Tyler's sister. She's very unhealthy and fucking fat. You are seeing someone lampooned on television, in front of millions of people, because she is fat, lazy and dull-witted. It's not a far cry from Bumfights. I don't know if you've noticed, but television has become a wasteland of humiliation and degradation, particularly of celebrities, because we as Joe Twelve-Packs feel they "have it coming" somehow. Celebrity Boxing. Star Dates. American Idol. Are You Hot? I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here! Joe Millionaire. The Bachelor. The Bachelorette. It goes on and fucking on. Television has become a method to help us feel better about ourselves by seeing the torment of others.
So I'll just jump on the bandwagon then, and present today's reason why Jennifer Lopez sucks. At least she can "pick a winner"...
03.01.03: It used to be that I watched a lot of that Behind The Music show on VH1. Then, I don't know, it started to get really predictable. You know, "we're nobody, we're famous, we have a drug overdose, we have a car accident, we're nobody again, now we're humble", no matter who the featured musical act was. But E!'s True Hollywood Story I find less predictable, but with the same heavy doses of debacle, depravity and depression. Plus they do this thing before they go to commercial that I just adore: the announcer says "Coming up", and then they show footage of somebody saying something like, "And as I drove up, I could see what was left of his head-" And then they cut to commercial. Jeez, how can you NOT stay tuned in? They sucker you every time.
Here's an interesting animation I came across... it's great for those of you out there who enjoy "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds"... and here's a game I found that brought back some memories.
And... here's today's reason why Jennifer Lopez sucks.
02.28.03: In case you've been paying attention (I haven't really), we're now at Yellow Alert instead of Orange here in the U.S. in regards to terrorist attacks. So why is it that the underside of the bottle cap to a Sobe "Liz Blizz" I bought today says "Where's the duct tape!"? I swear, that's what it says! Does that seem f'ed up to anyone else, or is it just me? Does Sobe have the inside track on dirty bombs? What exactly does Sobe know?!?
In less frightening news (depending on how you look at it), my animations are featured on another site, Entertainmail. Also, my animation "Brunch With A Supervillain" was voted "Daily Feature" at Newgrounds (link in header above), so thanks very much again to them. And, if you lie awake at night wondering exactly how big the boobs of celebrities are, take a look at this. Personally, it seems like a bunch of hogwash to me (Queen Elizabeth is on the list? Who did that research, and why?), but maybe it'll settle some boobie bar bets for you. Hee hee. Boobie bar bets.
And... here's today's reason why Jennifer Lopez sucks.
02.26.03: Last night was the final epsiode of Cowboy Bebop again on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim... If you've never seen this magnificent Japanese tribute to American pop culture and noir for yourself, you absolutely owe it to yourself to check it out. Even if you're not a fan of Japanese animation like I am, Bebop is a great way to ease into the medium... it's very accessible to us Ugly Americans, what with all the brilliant scene design and incredibly bloody violence that would do Peckinpah proud. Plus, it features the hottest female cartoon character ever, Faye Valentine. Period. Ever. Don't argue with me, just see it.
I'm not going to ruin it for you by telling you any details of the series' finale, but I will say that it damn near brings me to sobbing like a bitch-baby every time I see it. So last night I was all tough-guy, like, eh, I've seen this so many times, even though I know the series comes to a horribly depressing conclusion, I'm not gonna choke up. I knew closure was in sight, too: you can sense that things are coming to an inevitably bad end a few episodes before the last one. Then there it was, the final image of the 26th episode, and that children's chorus rises up on the soundtrack, and oh, the blubbering. Blubbering like a bitch-baby. It happens every friggin' time.
Anyway, see it. Here's a site to really whet your appetite for it: lots of great pictures and data. Here's some great pictures of Phoebe Cates, just for the fuck of it. They even threw in some from Fast Times At Ridgemont High. Yeah. You know the ones I'm talking about. And check it out- I just barely cracked the Top 10 at Newgrounds for last week. Thanks again everybody who's voted for me and especially those who've sent me the encouraging emails!
02.25.03: I'd like to welcome any newcomers to the site who made it here via Newgrounds, and say thanks for comin' by, put your feet up and set a spell. Don't know what the hell "set a spell" means, but my intentions are good, don't worry. I'd also like to thank you for helping make the traffic here absolutely nuts- I mean that in a good way, I've got the highest volume of traffic now since I started up the site back in 1999, when I was getting two or three hits a day. Now it's more like several thousand hits a day. So make yourself at home, and be sure and take a look at all the fun stuff MTP has to offer. There's more on the way too. I'd also like to thank Flashplayer for asking to host some of my animations. I'll do my best to keep cranking 'em out.
02.24.03: Another Art-O-Mat Update: Take a look at some press we got on abcnews.com! Holy schnikes! (Is that how you spell "schnikes"? You know, "schneye-keys", like Chris Farley used to bellow?) In any case, hot diggety dog! Plus my work made the front page at Newgrounds (click the cool l'il tank picture in my heading bar above!), so thanks to Newgrounds and everybody who voted for me, it's a real honor!
I always frequent the Photoshop contests at Fark and Something Awful, but I have to tell you, this last one at Fark has got to be one of the funniest I've ever seen. If you've got your panties in a bunch over the "Severe" level of terrorist attack danger, you've gotta check it out. Great for printing out and hanging up around town!
02.23.03: Stupid February. Stupid short month. Stupid people always saying "Feb-you-airy", which is almost as bad as goddam "nook-yoo-lur". Stupid bills/rent due days earlier than usual. Stupid Valentine's Day (even though I actually had a great one this year). Stupid stupid stupid.
On a lighter note, for some reason the song "California" by Wax popped into my head today. Don't know if you remember it, it's one of those classic "I'm getting the fuck out of this stinking town" songs, the video was directed by Spike Jonze, and featured a guy on fire running down the street in slow motion. Funny story, they got so little footage of the guy on fire before they had to put him out, they had to put it in reeaaaal slow motion to stretch it out to the song's already modest 2 1/2 minute running time. So it ended up looking a lot cooler than it might have, out of necessity. Anyway, here's the song if you want to hear it.
02.22.03: Art-O-Mat Update: At last the great metropolis of ATL is blessed with an Art-O-Mat of its very own, at the Whole Foods Market on Briarcliff! And I'm not just saying that because you can get some of my work out of it (no, of course not), it's a really cool thing to have happen as always. I had to pull one of the first all-nighters I've done in a while to get enough pieces ready (they will be posted in the Invisible Inc. section in the days to come), which I thought would be easy, me being an insomniac and all, but hell no. Once I got to around 8:30 am and realized I was still not finished and working, I started to wonder if perhaps I could become a giant flying hero sandwich after all, and save the indigenous peoples of Mars from the oncoming zombie hordes. I couldn't use caffeine, since sculpting tiny details becomes borderline impossible when my hands are shaking uncontrollably, so I had to stay awake au naturel. Egad. But once I was done, thanks to the stimulating effects of Red Bull soda, I could hang out with Clark (Whittington, the guru behind the entire project, who was in town for the installation) without seeming like a manic tweeker. Well, no moreso than I normally do. Truly a great day. Plus a little kid walked up to me while we were having coffee, and handed me a tiny bouquet of leaves. That was pretty adorable. I don't think I hallucinated it.
Later I went to Criminal Records and picked up the new Ministry album (the title is a bit of a tongue twister), which I didn't even know existed. One could definitely consider it an appeasement for their last two shitty albums, it's pretty damn good. If you're ever in town and happen to swing by Criminal, which I highly recommend, you can hear the new Tailothepup album, Foreign Accents, on their super-cool listen-before-you-buy headphones dealie. Check it out. You'll be glad you did. Or not. I hope you will be though.
02.19.03: Yippee, I got a haircut. And I'm actually really happy with it. Went nice and early in the afternoon, and got somebody who did a great job and was terribly cheery. We blabbed about CD burners, of all things. Debated internal vs. external (I fall on the internal side of the matter). And this is the second time I've gotten the short-back-and-sides with a scissor, instead of the buzzy clipper thing, the norm for me for the last 10 years. For some reason there's a spot on the back of my head, about half an inch across, where hair has stopped growing. It's not even a "male pattern baldness" region, it's just kind of there on the side. The clippers make it a bit too visible for my tastes. With the scissor it's more hideable, whatever the hell it is. Some people have suggested it's stress-related, which I doubt because my blood pressure hums at a smooth 100 over 30. So whatever. I just adore it when any minor health bug I might have turns any idiot into a licensed psychoanalyst. Anyway, I digress. I've run off at the mouth too much about my hair here anyways. Who gives a poot?
However, I have been on a bummer lately because my fabulous and beautiful girlfriend (yes, I'm trying to make you sick, you'd do the same), who lives out of town, came to visit, but had to leave soon after. Some people drink when they're feeling lonely, or eat "comfort food". I went out and bought a "comfort Transformer". That's my way of dealing with misery: a freakin' cool toy. A few scant moments of childhood relived. And I swear to god, I couldn't have bought a better TF to blot out my woes.
I bought the new Transformers: Armada version of Jetfire. If you're around my age, you might have had an original Jetfire, and if you did, and your friends/relatives-your-age didn't, you was Das Pimp. Not only did Jetfire come with a bunch of groovy bright-red pieces of snap-on armor, including wrist-cannons and back-mounted jet thrusters (you could put them on in robot or jet mode), but he was the most perfect toy version of the Robotech Veritech fighter ever released, in my opinion. (And he had decals out the yin yang.) This was the reason Jetfire appeared as the much-different-looking "Skyfire" on the TV cartoon, to avoid a copyright shit-storm. This didn't faze us kids, though. We understood, innately somehow. I remember looking at TFs in Garden State Plaza's Child World back in '85, when some snotty kid walked up to the nearest Jetfire box, grabbed it, and bellowed "Never fear! Skyfire's here!" as a signal to his surely-proud parents that this product must be purchased immediately. Jetfire was one of those TFs you could take pride in, the kind of pride usually reserved for fathering children. Well, maybe not.
If you are a TF fan, you need to go out and buy the new Jetfire. Now. I mean now. I say this for two reasons. One, it is beyond indescribably cool. When Wampus and I visited Target (pronounced Tar-zhay) last night and spotted him, we both bought one. All resolve against purchase melted when I saw it. Two, if you pass up a chance at getting it, odds are you will never get one. Recent excursions to not one but two local Toys R Us stores revealed that their TF sections were totally barren. Sold out. Just like back in '84-'85, when my dad gingerly explained to my apoplectic younger self than the reason I got a snow-cone maker instead of Omega Supreme for Xmas is because every toy that turned from a robot to something else was totally gone. Even the unbelievably shitty Go-Bots. Even the fucking Z-grade Z-Bots. Gone. And it's happening all over again.
Here's the deal: Jetfire's a shuttle. He has a cargo bay, which can hold a bunch of the smaller "Mini-Con" symbiote robots. The inside of one of the cargo-bay doors is engraved with all manner of star-charts and such, complete with a paint-rub to make the details really stand out. The main thruster from his space shuttle mode turns into a huge freakin' gun, which lights up and makes zappy noises when you push the tail fin down. When you push the tail fin up, you are treated to a recording of Henry Kissinger counting down from 5, then launch noises, then ominous intermittent orbital beeping. The enclosed Mini-Con not only turns from a moon rover into a cool little robot (and is really hard to transform), but the landing gear for the shuttle as well. Also, in keeping with the Armada "technology", he causes extra wings to pop out of the shuttle or bombs to drop when you plug him in to the larger robot. And there's airbrushing on the shuttle's nosecone to simulate re-entry scoring. AND you can combine him with the new Optimus Prime to make another new super-robot. No wonder I've seen toy magazines treating it like their own Playboy centerfold. Jesus Christ. I could go on and on. And I already have. Buy it. Buy it. You can't have mine. No. No. No.
For those of you who are curious, or simply don't know what the bloody hell I'm talking about, here and here's pictures of classic Jetfire. Here is the new hotness. That's right, I hate Men In Black II and yet I quote it. Golly how post-ironic. Also, Hasbro is FINALLY releasing a UNICRON figure. Read about it here. If you're a TF fan, go clean your shorts afterward. You heard it here first. And I'll get on that GPK/Homie page sooner or later, so quitcho bitchen.
02.16.03: Here's a comic book film adaptation to take your mind off that godawful Daredevil movie that's out (sigh... how could they screw up Daredevil? And how could a comic book obsessive like Kevin Smith deign to star in it???)... Alan Moore's League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is due to drop this summer. Here's a trailer. It looks pretty awesome, if you're familiar with the comic book, but what's with that "LXG" logo crap? Agggghhhh....
02.15.03: Perhaps this is unforgivably mundane, but I've been sitting here for the past couple of hours debating whether or not I should get a haircut. Being that I no longer live in the stinking swamp-humid hick shithole that I languished in for so long, I've actually been able to grow my hair out somewhat, without it blowing out like a freakish Caucasoid Afro-sponge. But I think today was pretty much the "threshold", you know, the day where you realize that regardless of whether you wash it or not, or what you put in it, there ain't shit you can do with your hair that will allow you to go outside without going deaf from the peals of other humans' laughter. And given that I was born blessed with a disproportionately bulbous cranium, hats aren't really an option for me, unless I want to look like one of those bobblehead things sportsfans put on their dashboards. I remember being heartbroken over this issue when I was a kid; all I wanted was a genuine Indiana Jones-style fedora, and when my dad tried to get me one, there was no size made that would sheathe my fat skull. That's right. No Ark of the Covenant for you, Mr. Macrocephalic. So Dad got me an Indy whip instead, off some street vendor in NYC, and I'm sure that as I proudly flopped it at light poles and street signs, I must've looked like the youngest member of Noo Yawk's famous S&M scene. Upon arriving back at the homestead, I took the whip out in the yard to practice. On my first try I fucked up and lashed myself full-force on the back. It's the only time I've ever been whipped (honest), and if you've never been, let me tell you something. If you happen to meet anyone who metions in passing that they dig being whipped, move away from them. Let them work out their issues on their own. Because the sensation of the tip of a leather cord popping me on the spine was enough to render my 12-year-old self utterly speechless from the acute pain, eyes bulging, for several minutes. And my childhood anecdotes include epic rock fights (dirt clods were for pussies), swashbuckling/eye-gouging displays of derring-do with broken car antennas, and Jedi duels using discarded flourescent bulbs as lightsabers. (Don't try these, especially that last one, by the by. There's a chemical powder inside flourescent bulbs that keeps your blood from clotting. Learned that one the hard way.) You don't grow up in the suburbs of Jersey without a few nasty scars. It's part of the charm of the region.
Well, it's getting late in the day, so I'll probably put off the haircut until tomorrow. Better to follow some words of wisdom from my old man, which have never steered me wrong; go get your hair cut in the morning, or early afternoon. You don't want to get snipped by someone who's been on their feet all day. Not if you like the luxury of having two ears. And that's One To Grow On. Because knowing is half the battle. I'm gonna go get a quesadilla.
02.14.03: Happy Valentine's Day Jenn! And for everybody else here's some Valentine's Day goodies... there's a new Tailothepup song from the upcoming album at Stick This In Your Ear!; we've been having fun with cellos and field recordings, hope you enjoy... also, there's a new review in the Review section... be sure and wear a smock when you read it, because boy howdy did I spew some bile. As a matter of fact, maybe you shouldn't read it. If you do, don't say I didn't warn you.
02.13.03: Art-O-Mat Update: Here's some press from Myrtle Beach! In other, completely unrelated news, I saw Steve-O from Jackass light his extremely hot (no pun intended... well, maybe) girlfriend on fire on TV the other night. Not sure why anybody would decide to set fire to a really cute girl with a great naked body, but then that's our Steve-O, and apparently she egged him on to do it for some reason (Jackass cohorts Wee Man and Preston Lacy were there as well). It's all on Steve-O's new video, Don't Try This At Home 2, available off his website. It also features him slicing his tongue open, getting stomped in the groin, and other fun stuff that Howard Stern acted all condescending about when Steve-O was on his show. And we all know what a pillar of morality ol' Howard is.
02.12.03: Two days til V-Day. Tell you what... I'll offer you this little tidbit of information for the big day... If you're not lucky enough to actually be from Scotland, or even be Scottish like myself (though without the benefit of the accent), read this and then go rent Trainspotting or something. Good luck.
02.11.03: Three days to go... hope you at least got a card or something...
On another note, it's always fun to try and figure out which television personalities are rampart stoners. It's no challenge to go for the obvious, like, say, Dave Chappelle. The idea is instead to try and unmask the closeted toker. And of course, it's always hilarious when you're proven right.
The "Dude, you're gettin' a Dell" guy just got popped for weed. Although it's not hard to imagine the guy taking a pull from a four-foot skull bong before the director yelled "action", I always figured that Ellen Feiss from those annoying Apple ads would get busted first. Christ, her friggin' eyes are red and everything. She seems real spaced, and she can't seem to operate a PC, for fuck's sake. She's said it was cough syrup or something. Maybe. We've all, at one time, rode that crazy dragon they call Robitussin.
You can read about the Dell guy here and here. Now if only that "Can you hear me now?" guy would fire up a doob and shut his damnable cheese-duct.
02.10.03: Yeah yeah yeah, okay okay, excuses excuses, no post for five days blah blah blah. Let me ask you this- have you gotten that special someone something for Valentine's Day? 'Cause, you know, it's four days away and all. I'm just trying to keep you out of the doghouse, is all.
02.05.03: I'm sure you've been subjected to some ridiculously overlong and pompous musical pieces by, say, I don't know, Yes, or Rush, or Rick Wakeman maybe, where you looked up from your bong-haze long enough to say, "God damn, how long is this frigging song, 639 years?!" Well, guess what, Mr. Whiny, the first notes of a piece (by John Cage, who else really?) called As Slow As Possible were struck in Germany today, and it should finish up in- you guessed it- 639 years. That is, if nobody says "fuck it" after two hundred years or so. Imagine getting out of high school to discover that your family signed a contract to play in an orchestra for the next few centuries. And start putting money away for the 14,000 pound box set now.
Here's where you can read about it. This page will have up-to-the-minute updates until the year 2642.
02.03.03: If you haven't by now, check out the Engrish link above under Link-O-Rama. If you've never heard the colloquialism "engrish", it's a term for the beautiful poetry that results when you do a half-assed job of translating Japanese or Chinese into English. Like the chopsticks you get at the take-out restaurant, where it talks about China's "glonous" history, "and cultual".
Here's a link that will take you to the best examples of the English-subtitled Japanese release of The Two Towers. Perhaps it's a comedy over there. I'm gonna reread the original Tolkien book though, because I don't recall Gimli saying "Bring your pussy face to my ass". No wonder Lord of the Rings is such a timeless classic.
02.02.03: Happy Groundhog Day! Apparently, the infamous Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, or however it works, and predicted six more weeks of winter. Which admittedly doesn't affect us as much down here in the Southern states, but if you're up north, my heart goes out to you. People in non-cold areas of the U.S.: you can't truly appreciate the hassle of getting to work in the morning until you have to scrape ice of your windows, warm up your car, and above all dig a trench in the snow to your vehicle. Ah, good times.
Here's where you can read more about Phil's adventures on Gobbler's Knob. Feels naughty writing that for some reason.
02.01.03: As I'm sure you were, I was horribly shocked this afternoon when I learned of the shuttle Columbia disaster. Then I turned on CNN, for NASA's public address on the matter, and when they started talking about how fast the shuttle had been going- Mach 18- they wrote it on their little text display at the bottom of the screen as "Mock 18". Honest to god, I know you're not going to believe me, but it was there, for a bit before they changed it to its proper spelling. Maybe the person typing in that stuff live was so upset about the report that they weren't paying attention to what they were doing, but damn, that's pretty embarrassing for CNN. I also found it a little embarrassing that Bush assured the public that the explosion wasn't a "terrorist act". I think most of us could figure that out for ourselves.
Anyway, I remember being in 9th grade science class when the principal told us over the loudspeaker that the Challenger had exploded. It seemed like it wasn't two hours before kids started making jokes about it. I hope that isn't the case this time, though I'm sure it probably will be. Kids suck when it comes to tragedy. Maybe it's their way of dealing with it, but sheesh those little buggers are harsh. Still, it sucks that kids have to deal with this at all. I mean, who doesn't want to go up into space?
I know I always have, so it's terrible when someone doesn't come back. Here's more on the matter, if you're not oversaturated...
01.31.03: Pup Update: Another new song from the upcoming Tailothepup album can be heard by clicking on the Stick This In Your Ear banner above this page. It's an early mix of "Maelzel's Chess Player". We're almost finished with the artwork and everything too, so we're looking at a spring release. More on this as it happens.
01.30.03: Not only did we get the pleasure of seeing a big stupid-looking yellow Humvee across the street today, but also a full-blown cat orgy. From the looks of it there were at least three cats screwin' away. Howlin' and humpin', the whole bit. I think the dude cat was this orange one, and he almost got his ass clawed when he was trying to get over on this one cat chick. He was all like, "DAMN! Let a playa PLAY!" The passing traffic seemed to take no notice of this feline debauchery.
01.29.03: New stuff is up in the Invisible Inc. section. I figgered since we got some TV coverage with the Art-O-Mat it was time to get off my ass and get some more done, so more will be on the way as well. I had a problem with an acrylic glaze I had been using on them, but in the end it turned out hunky-dory. Always remember to use a priming coat. Sometimes these things slip my mind. Usually because I'm all stinky drunk. Oof. The figurines on the page are sold out, but if you put an order in now you can grab one of the new ones as they are produced.
Sorry about the short and late entries and lack of updates. I'm workin' on it. It's like 3am now though.
01.28.03: Speaking (as I was on 1.25.03) of naughty video games, check out this list from Seanbaby.com. It's more evidence that the Japanese ass-poking game I mentioned a ways back wasn't just something I made up. Check out the faces on the advertisement for it. I don't think it's going to make it stateside any time soon.
01.27.03: Art-O-Mat Update: For those of you on the east coast, be sure and tune in to the CBS Early Show at around 8:15 am tomorrow the 28th to see to see a blurb on our good buddies Artists In Cellophane and the Art-O-Mat Project! (If you're not on the east coast, check your local listings. Outside the US, I dunno.) Congratulations to Clark and all at AIC for the national exposure! (You can see my humble contribution if you go to their site and click on "Artists".)
01.26.03: I just had this weird recollection... about ten years or so ago I saw Cyndi Lauper on some late night talk show. This was quite some time after her "Girls Just Want To Have Fun"/Vibes heyday. I don't remember who the host of the show was, but she showed up with this Latin guy who didn't speak any English. His whole purpose for being there was to tell this joke, which he did- in Spanish. The only English words you could understand were "Skeezix McPherson". Cyndi laughed and laughed at the joke. It was really surreal.
Here's where you can read about The Goonies (Cyndi did the theme song, doncha know). Apparently Goonies II is in the works. Hopefully it won't involve paddling a boat, because Corey Feldman obviously can't manage that, even with the help of MC Hammer (in case you've been watching The Surreal Life as religiously as I have).
01.25.03: This is going to sound like so much of my usual hyperbole, but I believe the greatest video game in the universe may have entered our household. I know, I know, I say that about a lot of games when I first get 'em (Panzer Dragoon Orta is FUCKING AWESOME), but in this case I think it's true. It's Dead Or Alive Xtreme Beach Volleyball. In a nutshell, it's Pong, but with beautifully-rendered, large-busted young women instead of paddles. You can buy incredibly skimpy outfits (we're talking pasties and floss) for them to wear. You can gamble at a casino. You can zoom in on the players' beautifully-rendered body parts. All this grandeur, plus nudity. And jumping up and down on pool floats. It's as though someone creeped inside your brain (assuming you're a lazy, horny, heterosexual adult male like me) and created the perfect game for you. It's... bliss. Horrible, time-sucking bliss. Ah.
I'll see if I can get a review of this masterpiece cobbled together over the weekend. If I can stop playing it.
01.24.03: Pup Update: Okay, I let a few days go without an entry, but I'll make it up to you. If you click on the "Stick This In Your Ear" button above this page, you'll hear the first song off Tailothepup's upcoming album, the warm-and-fuzzily-titled "I Want You To Die". Keep checking back, because we'll be featuring new Pup songs until the album's official release this summer. Bon appetit!
01.20.03: Every time Three Amigos comes on some cable channel I watch it like an idiot. I don't know why. It's not one of my favorite movies. I don't even know if I like it that much. But there's three things in that movie that sucker me in every viewing:
1) The little kid who says to one of the Amigos in a thick Mexican accent, "Can I have your watch when you are dead?" That kid is the best! Where is he now? What the hell is he doing? What the hell ever became of the Can I Have Your Watch When You Are Dead Kid?!?
2) The Incantation the Amigos read to summon the Invisible Swordsman. You can tell it's all improvised, and the whole bit is good, but Steve Martin's verse is the best part. He goes, "Farleyfarleyfarleyfarley,HUHfarrrrrley!" Ha! Ha! It's the friggin' shit!
3) Mexican bandit El Guapo's birthday party, where he opens a present and proudly proclaims, "It's a sweater!" Remember what a drag it used to be to get a sweater as a present? Thanks to Three Amigos, it can bring you the incomparable joy of reciting that line in front of all your friends with impeccable timing, even if you hate the damn garment.
Okay okay, maybe I do like The Three Amigos after all. Shut up.
01.19.03: In a heavily inebriated state, my friends and I discovered that if you play some music records at a higher speed, the musicians sound like other musicians. For example, if you play Simon & Garfunkel at 45, they sound just like the Indigo Girls. And if you do it with Tom Waits? Melissa Etheridge. Honest Injun! Try it yourself and see!
For all you embryos out there who don't know what a "record" or "turntable" is, like us fogeys, go here.
01.18.03: Okay, I don't normally consider myself to be a stultifyingly dull person, but I will tell you this: I watched my computer de-frag today. I usually do it in the middle of the night, since I can sleep really well to the sound of all that grinding and crunching. But every once in a while I'll start it up in the daytime, and stare at it like an idiot. And that is what I did today. Well, plus I ate a big pile of lo mein. (My fortune was: "The skills you have gathered will one day come in handy." Oh... kay.) But that's it. Dull. Sorry.
Here's something slightly more exciting than all that crap that you probably shouldn't check out at work.
01.17.03: I ate a pecan divinity today. For those of you who don't occasionally indulge in one of these wonderful things, They're white, like a marshmallow, and they kind of taste like really good cupcake icing. Visually they look kind of like an angel turd. Ah yes, mm-mmm good.
Speaking of poop, it's interesting how many candy bars look like it, hm? I'm sure I'm not the only one who got the idea to toss a Baby Ruth in a public swimming pool after seeing Caddyshack. And for resemblance to excrement, you can't really beat a Baby Ruth. Maybe it's something about the peanuts.
Here's where you can learn to make your own pecan divinity, straight from a bunch of crackers.
01.16.03: Pup Update: If you happen to be in the Little Five Points region of Atlanta GA (and good for you if you are, unless you're there during rush hour, egad), you can now purchase Tailothepup's newest album at Criminal Records. Pup has already gone back into the studio to work on their next musical offering, so stay tuned. Oh, and just FYI: if you're going to run for office, learn to spell.
01.15.03: Not much of a random thought for today, except for this: maybe the reason some people have aneurysms, or some people flip out and mow down lotsa folks with a machine gun, is because the bank charges you $30 when you overdraw your account. Even if it's their fault. Which, of course, it always is. Trust me. They just wanna screw you.
Speaking of screw, last night I took a small screwdriver and scraped some chunks of tartar off my bottom teeth. I don't understand where the stuff comes from, I floss every night. (Well, I'm using dental tape now, which is kind of like minty package twine.) Plus I'm really fanatical about brushing my teeth, I mean, not Rain Man fanatical, but it seems I shouldn't have as much tartar as I do. So I took matters literally into my own hands and sharted shaving it off. Now I can pass air between my bottom front teeth again. Sure, it was probably a borderline insane thing to do. But a man's gotta know his limits. Sometimes a home dental experiment is the only way to test them.
01.14.03: In case you're one of those good folks who doesn't realize that you have a better chance of being struck by lightning four hundred times consecutively while winning the lottery than you do of being abducted by aliens, I'll wager you live under the fear that once those little green anal-probers do come for you, they may lose their map for some reason and not be able to bring you back.
Never fear. These people have got you covered. Just so you don't end up on some other planet, you know, one with a hearty barbeque sauce atmosphere, when they drop you off.
01.13.03: New stuff, kiddies! There's a review of Mortal Kombat: Deadly Alliance up, and a new weekly feature to replace Headcheese (for now, until I can actually devote the necessary time to it): The MTP Weekly Garbage Pail Kid! That's right. Delight in the boogery nostalgia that is the Garbage Pail Kid experience, every Saturday. Hotcha!
Well, before you know it, tax time will be upon us. It may seem early to you, but as a freelancer, I'm guaranteed a lubeless fist-job from the IRS every year, so I start freaking out early. And, see, I've got this funny little habit. When I manage to starve long enough to save the amount of money required by the government every year, I give the check a good healthy swipe across my taint after a good six-or-seven day stretch of no showering before I seal it up in the envelope. It's like my way of "damning the man".
Sure it's gross, but the point is it's kind of hard to prove, barring some government dude coming over and sniffing my nuts (no thanks). And it's certainly harder to prove than this.
01.12.03: I don't know if any of you out there have heard of a rabbit named Oolong. If not, here is the site (don't worry about the Japanese text download unless you're like me and you want your damn screen to be filled with lots of kanji characters you can't understand). Oolong was a unique rabbit who had the ability to sit perfectly still balancing something, like a little bun or cake, on his head while his owner took a picture. Even if you're not a former rabbit owner like myself, you gotta admit that's pretty friggin' adorable. (Here's the English introduction, translated for all us furriners.) Unfortunately Oolong passed away a few days ago at the young age of eight, and again, if you've never had a rabbit as a pet, you can't really grasp the heart-wrenchingness of their passing. Sure, all pets are hard to lose, but I had two different rabbits, both dwarf and one a "mini-lop" (lop-eared, meaning one ear would be sticking straight up while the other flopped over. Sigh.), and watching an almost ridiculously cute creature depart for the pearly gates was so hard to bear that I stopped keeping rabbits as pets altogether. Even if they liked to kick their little poop pellets all over my living room.
Here's where you can go if you want to pay your respects. I found it really intriguing to see someone dealing with the grief process so openly. (If you don't find yourself even a trifle misty-eyed at the photo of Oolong surrounded by little toy rabbit buddies, then Heil Hitler, Dr. Mengele.) I tend to squeeze my grief into a little ball of time-release venom. Curse my emotionless Vulcanesque WASP upbringing.
01.11.03: Okay, to anyone who's reading this daily (by the way, I luv ya if you do), I'm sure my apologies for skipping days are getting redundant. Sorry. See? Redundant. Sorry for being redundant. Sigh...
I don't think I realized how difficult it was going to become to do this everyday. Don't worry, I committed to the idea of a daily blog and I'm not about to quit or anything, but just so you know, if I skip a day here and there it's because a) I was busting my hump on some frigging project or assignment (also the excuse for the Headcheese hiatus, sorry yet again) and before I knew it it was after twelve midnight and another damn day had passed, and b) nothing interesting happened or popped into my head. Oh yeah, the new Mortal Kombat doesn't help matters either. But I don't want to slip into one of those "woke up, ate breakfast, scratched my butt" boring diatribes. Remember? They killed the 'zine revolution. Yep. They did. Between Pup, and drawing comics, I work a lot. Which makes for very dull blog entries. Hey! Just like this one! Suffice to say I don't want to bore you with crap.
Alright. Enough with the dullness. Here's a link that will count as an "I told you so" for certain people. You know who you are.
01.07.03: Since the new year started, I've seen a lot of "Best of 2002" lists on different websites. Honestly, I don't think I was paying that much attention to any one particular thing in 2002 that would constitute a list of any relevance. Sure, I saw and heard a lot of new bands I liked, yeah, there were movies I thought were cool... blah. Who cares.
That's why it's good to know people like this are putting lists together. Now there's a list that's worth compiling, in my opinion.
01.06.03: I'm come to a point in a page I'm pencilling where I actually need to use a compass. I can't believe I'm going to have to go out and buy something that I used to throw into the acoustic ceiling tiles in high school. Let's face it, the compass was basically a weapon. I wonder if they allow them in school nowadays, what with all the shenanigans and goings-on of a violent nature. I betcha they don't. So I figure when I go to Eckerd tomorrow to buy one they gotta be real cheap, since there's no demand for the nasty little buggers. At least that's what I'm hoping.
I still can't believe I have to go buy one of the damn things. I could never use one with any success anyway.
01.05.03: Today my friends and I got on to the topic of rock tumblers. If you don't know what one is, it's essentially an electric spinning drum that you put rocks you find in the yard into, and it rolls them around (quite noisily) until they're smooth, like a rock from a river. Lots of guys like me got one from their parents when they were a kid, then no longer had it a few days after because a) the unbelievable noise caused your parents to reconsider their purchase and give it away (after giving you a considerably quieter "distraction present"), or b) you put a rock into it that was too big and totally destroyed it. For most kids the noise was the deal-breaker. At first you got to keep it in your room, then it would make its way to the garage, and then the neighbors would start shooting flaming arrows at you. Oh well. For me, the rock tumbler will always be one of those coming-of-age things, much like the first time you try to breed hamsters and get to witness your very own crazy-hamster-mom massacre.
Here's some tips on choosing your very own rock tumbler. They're especially great if you live in an apartment and don't mind getting death threats.
01.04.03: Happy New Year!
Okay, I'm finally back at this after a brief New Year's sabbatical. Actually, I've been putting in around twelve hours a day on this new comic book proposal I'm trying to get sent out, so I haven't been wanting to stare at this screen typing on about nonsense afterwards, when my bed looks so damn comfortable. Damn you bed! Damn you, fluffy enemy of work!
So, anyway, with a new year comes a new TRT page. Filled with useless minutae about my life, such as the fact that I saw the Japanese film that "The Ring" was based on last night, and it unnerved me badly enough that I couldn't go to sleep until around 5 am, after a couple hours of thinking happy thoughts. Maybe I was in an impressionable mood or something. I'm a grown man, for Christ's sake! I don't normally get that freaked out. But goddamn this shit was creepy. I haven't seen the American version, but I have a feeling it's doesn't really compare. (All due respect to Naomi Watts. You keep rubbing up against other chicks in David Lynch movies, you lovely thing, you.) Anyhow, check it out if you can find it. I'm gonna stop thinking about it now, so I don't have to go clutch a teddy bear again or something. Sniff.
Here's where you can read about Ring if you're curious. And here's an even scarier version of Ring.
