Bloggy-Blog

Does This Still Work?

2010-10-21T02:19:00.000-07:00

It Does!

I'm thinking about returning to blogging for my 3.5 loyal fans, lo after all these years.

Reviewing my posts here from the late 2000's, I'm made aware of how unreadable most of it was. But there were a few shining exceptions. The fact that I managed to post a clip of a young woman singing a song from an obscure Closet World TV spot and then have her comment here made it all worthwhile. To be instrumental in providing a venue for something that odd is rewarding. It's times like these we need such diversions from the numbing hounds of media:

Apologies to my 3.5 subscribers

2008-10-15T03:44:00.000-07:00

As you may have heard, the Sun is supposed to supernova any day now. So instead of idling around here and wasting precious time, I've been idling over at Facebook.com and wasting precious time there instead. I haven't altogether abandoned the Bloggy-Blog mandate of taking over the planet with my random scrawl, it's just that I have become completely bereft of new ideas or original thoughts. This is the danger of getting older and complacent --not that I am getting older and complacent. Still, be warned, lest you get older and complacent.

Meanwhile, if it should happen that I'm not here to hold your hand till the bitter end, just remember: the status quo is out to eat your brain and fill the empty space in your skull with crazy conspiracy theories. My advice is to stay asleep as long as you possibly can and avoid the harsh winter that lies ahead, just like the bears do. Yes, follow the bears' lead and hibernate. Just make sure you have plenty of beer on hand and cable TV. I guess that's an easy adjustment as life won't change for any of you.

Love each other and don't forget to rotate your socks.

Other News, plus word of the day

2008-09-14T13:09:00.000-07:00

George Putnam died the other day. He was a local news guy on the LA scene for trillions of years, usually appearing on the more budget-minded broadcasts. George had a very over-the-top delivery that amused me ever since I was a kid. If you click on his name, you'll learn that he had a long-standing grudge match with another perennial news anchor Hal Fishman, who also died this last year. Fishman was the model for the self-important news anchor you see in the Simpsons; Putnam was the inspiration for Ted Knight on the Mary Tyler Moore Show.

putman/fishman together again?

Good luck on the other side you two, and stop your fighting... There's plenty of broadcast bandwidth in heaven!

___________________________

Word of the day: Compersion. [quoting from Wikipedia] Compersion is a term used by practitioners of polyamory (another word to look up) to describe the experience of taking pleasure when one's partner is with another person.

You may wonder how I came upon this word. Well, it's the convoluted maze of Google searching, mostly. See, while looking up George Putnam, I found this curious page written by a Polyamorist activist. While it's not about the same George Putnam as mentioned above, she's claiming that Amelia Earhart and her fiance George Putnam were brave pioneers of open relationship, not stuck in "mediaeval" social codes. After reading the evidence, I'm not convinced but you could say that Earhart was pretty kick ass on many levels.

Lassie Come-Home!

2008-09-13T23:23:00.000-07:00

Walking down Hollywood Blvd has got to be THE most ridiculous place to find oneself on a Saturday night. That is, unless you're visiting from Pittsburgh or Germany and totally green to the soul-draining vortex feel of the place. For those of the aforementioned category, heads up. What you will find are purposeless droves of lost souls shuffling over stars' names inlaid into the sidewalk --and most of 'em dead ones. There's a sadly misguided notion that any average schlub might make contact with real celebrity magic by just by showing up here. Maybe you'll meet Bing Crosby, Howdy Doody, or Lassie ...or perhaps you'll be cast as the new Lassie! Being Hollywood, however, you quickly learn that it's all scaffold and facade and you wisely decide to drink in excess to quell the crushing disappointment.

tip to the kids:
Lassie the movie star Collie ate only human flesh.

Yes, and Hollywood Blvd is exactly where I was tonight (Saturday), holding my own amid the touristy ranks; keeping my head down pretending not to be there. Why I was there was accidental, trust me. I won't get into that now.

I crossed Highland going west, trying to find a place to eat, as I hadn't had a bite all day and was getting woozy. There was a Baja Fresh food chain about a half a block down. While not my favorite choice, it seemed more desirable than one of the innumerable 24-hour "eateries", where they re-heat giant slabs of plain cheese pizza held under hot lamps for centuries. So I scarf down a fish taco that the food preparer had haphazardly spattered with green chili sauce, looking like it was dispensed from a sneezing Chihuahua's snout.

Done with that delicacy, I launch myself back out on the street with a plan to turn around at the Grauman's Chinese Theater, desiring to keep my time there to a minimum due to the sensory overload of intoxicated joy riders and overall insanity. But just as I'm waiting for a light to change, a guy who looks slightly like a character actor from Beach Blanket Bingo strides up. He's vaguely medium build, salon tan, brown slightly shaggy hair, wearing a casual Hawaiian print shirt. He's holding a large plastic bucket, which you'll sometimes see street performers use as an improvised percussion instrument. Whatever.

The light goes green and I'm focusing down again, quickly moving through the crosswalk. My intent stride plus no-eye-contact technique seems to glide me through patches of slow moving folk with ease. But I do notice peripherally that guy from curbside is keeping pace with me and looking over. It's not comforting.

I'm coming parallel to the Roosevelt Hotel entrance. The building is a rare Hollywood architectural landmark from the old days which I like very much, and my brain just says, "go in now!". I'm walking into the lobby and the guy with the Hawaiian shirt holding the plastic bucket comes through the door close behind me yelling, "Hey brother I LOVE YOU! Will you promise me you'll come to the drum circle?" I turn around. "I don't know where that is", I answer while still walking into the hotel, laughing nervously. Bucket drummer guy responds, "It's in Venice beach. My name is Evan! Meet me at the drum circle and I'll buy you dinner!" I'm really quickening my pace, nearly running headlong into the wall at the opposite end of the lobby. His voice, echoes louder as I increase my distance. "I LOVE YOU MAN!!! I LOVE YOU!"

At this point, I'm not sure if Evan the bucket drumming guy is still following me and I don't want to know. I go up the stairs and wander about, finally giving a reluctant look back. He's gone.

I have no resounding conclusion here, other than it's not the first time I've attracted very strange people (men and women) into my orbit out of nowhere. Whereas, I have a reasonable amount of mostly sane friends in my circle, it's the odd characters occasionally bursting through the fabric of space-time who are magnetized to me in such a way that give me pause. OR, maybe I just don't know how to appreciate an honest guy expressing love for his fellow man (?), without wearing my phobia on my sleeve. OR... maybe that guy is me, time-traveling from the future, just trying to give myself some encouragement in these troubled times and the very real prospect of Sarah Palin's meteoric rise to fuhrer.

The Spiritual Look

2008-08-22T11:19:00.000-07:00

Which personal grooming style conveys the most spiritual authority: (A) the Seventies clown hair or (B) the bald and virile?

I think we both know the answer. It depends on the enlightenment fashion dictates of the decade you live in. In the 70s, overly-styled clown hair was where "it" was at. The word "it" in Sanskrit translates to: "the ineffable 'it-ness': i.e., there 'it' goes, here 'it' comes again". Right now, however, if you want to visually communicate that you've got "it" in terms of spiritual book author cred, then don't be foolish. The path is clear. The way to the mountain top and an Oprah endorsement is to shave your head.

I'm not being funny here. I mean shave your head. Now!!!

Drugs and Lots of 'em too

2008-08-21T13:35:00.000-07:00

I seem to have a fairly low tolerance for most mind-altering substances, except John Denver records and Hostess Cakes. That's probably been a good thing, because otherwise I'm sure I'd be eating sandwiches of LSD all day long.

While I've never been a huge fan of Dr. Timothy Leary, I do have one favorite quote from him that goes: "advanced age is like an altered state of consciousness". I think that's about the most positive spin on aging I've ever heard, which leaves me with that to look forward to.

Meanwhile, I've been reading about alternative attitudes on drugs, without actually taking any. LA tap water is mind bending enough.

I've also been watching a very interesting hippie chick on YouTube. She's got a mess o' videos about her experience with almost every conceivable "Entheogenic" drug, laying it out in the most wispy "everything's good and everything's OK"-kinda' way. [Some things are not good: Namely, I do feel bad for the toad in the video.]

Ray Campi Traffic School

2008-08-18T02:34:00.000-07:00

I saw this fellow...

Ray Campi

playing at the Blue Cafe in Long Beach last Saturday night. While I can't claim to be Mr. Rockabilly Aficionado-Head, I had heard of Campi's legend as a performer and it was a worthwhile show. Between numbers Mr. Campi would digress, indulging in monologues about his musical travels or whatever random thing entered his head.

Then for no reason at all, Ray started issuing pointers about "rules of the road", "pedestrian right-of-way", "CHP jurisdiction", etc. We're sitting there in the audience looking at each other asking, "What the hell is he talking about?!!!" I then realized that this was not an everyday performance. This was a Ray Campi Traffic School! Not only did I leave with my certificate but I learned that fines for rolling stops in California are going to be jacked up considerably due to the State's financial crises. This news was made much easier to digest when offered with a tantalizing mix of Bill Haley and Gene Vincent covers. Also good to know that our State Government loves us enough to protect us with tough love measures and to crown Mr. Campi as the ambassador of safe driving.

Sublimate Your Libido!

2008-08-14T12:48:00.000-07:00

Today's tip: go to an electronic graphic arts convention like I did this last Tuesday. It's still up and running, so don't miss out. It's Siggraph 2008 at the LA Convention Center, no less. You can mill around computer software vendors, 3d animation demonstrations, drive a virtual race car, and eat virtual food at inflated prices. But the main thing is that your libido will be completely sublimated, as you find yourself immersed in all the latest technology.

Hold the presses! While browsing the internet for an accompanying image to steal for this post, I found the above shot. I obviously went to the wrong Siggraph convention. Last year in San Diego was evidently a whole different scene but I still insist that HAS to be some sort of robot cyber dancer.

Life in Vagaries Comic #1

2008-08-14T05:04:00.001-07:00

click image for mucho-bigg-o.

Life in Vagaries

2008-08-06T03:28:00.000-07:00

A frequent sentiment as of late...

World is Turning, Babies Born, The Crow Flies

2008-07-21T01:00:00.000-07:00

Wow. I haven't written anything here in a while. Hello000? I can almost hear an echo in this dried up chamber.

There's actually a lot going on but I can't write about any of it because then people at work would know that I ran nude down the middle of the freeway spray painting cars. That probably wouldn't be good.

People are talking about the planet a lot. I think about it too. It's stunning to me how regular our geosynchronous orbit is when you consider that there's nothing but gravitational forces suspended in a vacuum to keep it all on a rail. So if everyone on one hemisphere of the globe were to jump up and down at the same time, could that not unseat the world's trajectory and cause a perilous plummet into the Sun? ...and don't you appreciate how I upped the drama, that it has to go INTO the sun and not out into dark space? Regardless, then we'd be sorry we all jumped up and down at the same time just because those two wacky morning-drive DJs suggested it as merely a funny stunt for the station!

manufactured agents of the "serious absurdity" principle

People say that science is very logical but I find the fact that stuff, even in its most elementary form, exists at all is very strange/amazing. There's no contract anywhere that says that lead, copper, magnesium, H2O, etc, has to exist and it's just like us to take it all for granted. But let's not go down that road as it's bound to exacerbate peptic ulcers, which zinc is so purportedly handy for.

The preceding is why I get strange glances for giving religion at least some credit for finding an outlet for the existential freakout contained in a paradigm that at least acknowledges the soul's plight of beingness set against a backdrop of infinite serious-absurdity (i.e., pending obliteration and the ritual denial of death via Britney Spears). Anyone still following this? It's true that I don't look at all religious activity the same way but I understand that unless you can live without REM sleep cycles in the human brain and the coded information it's there to process by design, I very much doubt that similarly digressive-to-what's-in-front-of-your-face beliefs will evaporate away by appealing to rationalism or similar construct.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must ascend into my plasma orb.

I Don't Know What to Title This

2008-06-26T02:01:00.000-07:00

I have unearthed a couple of paintings I made in High School.

I admit that do kinda' like these acrylic paintings. Perhaps this was the zenith of my creative powers.

Note: I'm adding detail shots because that's what Thomas Kinkade would do.

Something to do while the novocain wears off

2008-06-16T02:30:00.000-07:00

I've been throwing random pics of my flashy celebrity lifestyle up on Flickr. One good reason to upload photos on the Web is that it's a back-up repository that can always be accessed in case my local files accidentally catch fire. I can't think on any other good reason at the moment.

So, check it out HERE, baby. It's voyeuristic fun for the whole family!

L. Ronsicle

2008-06-12T02:55:00.000-07:00

I was recently asked to create a Photoshop bust of L Ron Hubbard as an ice sculpture for a certain less-than-serious show at a certain less-than-serious Television network. This was one of those rare occasions where I felt I'd made a valuable contribution to American culture.

Will I get into big trouble for posting this? Let's find out.

The People's Wheelie

2008-05-30T08:40:00.000-07:00

If Wheelie Bars are for sissies, then what is a "sissy bar"? I love toy companies that encourage laying down a patch of rubber and wheelie stunts without a helmet. I really do. After all, this was the generation that ate butterscotch-flavored centipedes cooked up on a 110-volt Mattel "Incredible Edible" grill. This isn't about nostalgia, this is reality without safety nets.

"Motorcycles do it... even trucks do it" .... let's do it. More lascivious fun from Wham-O !

A Productive Investment of Time

2008-05-26T23:53:00.000-07:00

Here's your fresh batch of voyeuristic photos lifted from the local Mac store. They are all as I found them. This being L.A., having your picture uploaded for the world to see is merely another step toward the all-consuming drive for celebrity. This is, after all, a public-service Blog.

High School, High School, Everywhere's High School

2008-05-21T01:38:00.000-07:00

No, it's not a minstrel show, just another Super8 clip rescued from the attic. "Derm-O-Flex" was made for a High School Media Study class many moons ago. Of course, this fine bit of Art House fare wouldn't have been possible without Jim, Larry, Christy and Jerome K.

Update (2011): This was shot by Larry Fong, Mr. "Super 8", quite literally.

Miles and Miles of Piles of Guitars

2008-05-03T04:05:00.000-07:00

Dirk, the proprietor of Guitar Safari (not to be confused with Quixotic Sephardi) located in the storybook land of San Pedro south of LA, christened and set sail his new store, which looks just like his old store from the 90's, revived from cryogenic suspension. Yes, it was quite the Deja Vu with everything exactly as it was, except that all the on-lookers, myself included, are now ancient and grossly rotund.

So get your gigantic ass in gear and rush down to San Pedro immediately and buy as many guitars, foot pedals, strings, amps and whatever as you can to support Dirk's expensive habit.

Here's a bunch of Opening Day pics you can wrap your eager eyeballs around. Thanks to Dianne for her photo contributions.

This little guy, the embodiment of all the dark forces of the universe, keeps watchful guardianship over Guitar Safari. He's only slightly creepy but, not to worry, he won't stab you mercilessly, so long as you buy a guitar.

Post revelry repose.

Photoshop Slop # 100283: Deconstructed and glued back together

2008-04-28T23:47:00.000-07:00

Here's the latest from your local tormented artist: "Girls Gone Wild with Blue Tank". The juxtaposition of the female form with military hardware never fails to convey a sense of jingoistic ardor. So I guess this piece will have to be defined as Agitprop and there's nothing I can say about it.

How did it happen? I was just innocently trying to make a nice picture to hang in a Dentist office. Hopefully, everyone is at least duly agitated and seeking Marxism as an alternative.

Or maybe the version below is better. I can't decide.

Nibbling a little Oprah-noon Delight

2008-04-16T02:23:00.000-07:00

Here's one rousing video of the Starland Vocal Band performing "Afternoon Delight" Milli Vanilli-style on Oprah. Make no mistake, Oprah has designs on conquering planet Earth. She's my favorite TV pal and life coach. I just love watching her show with my eyes glazed, whilst guiding spoonfuls of cake frosting into my mouth.

I wonder what would happen if you put the members of Starland Vocal Band and Abba together in a centrifuge and blended them together? What kind of monster pop band would be unleashed to do battle with Oprah against the Tokyo skyline? No my friends, it's too horrible to even contemplate.

Dubious Pasttimes

2008-04-07T03:32:00.000-07:00

If you visit the Apple Store and open the Photo Booth software that's on every Mac, you'll likely see photos that customers take of themselves and leave behind. OK, that's one thing but what sort of nut would forward one to his email and then post it on a blog like this?

adrift without earbuds

Mandatory TV

2008-04-01T17:43:00.000-07:00

The Return of Closet World

2008-03-26T02:51:00.000-07:00

Back in February, I posted a convoluted story revolving around an obscure commercial for Closet World. A reader named Michelle just left a comment there, mentioning that she'd been on a similar quest to find any scrap of evidence for this commercial on the Web, but to no avail. So, taking matters into her own hands, she made the following video of herself performing a heartfelt rendition of the Closet World jingle.

Is it presumptuous or creepy of me to take the liberty of posing this video? Cast your vote!

Cake Indentities

2008-03-22T20:19:00.001-07:00

This is what blogging is all about. All my efforts, the sleepless nights, the alcoholic binges, and the hernias resulting from hefting Bloggy-Blog to its current iconic stature, have all culminated with this singular defining post.

Yes, the generous folks at the old Fairfax' Farmer's Market Pastry Shop permitted me to copy images from their scrapbook of personalized cakes! This gallery of confections has been an under-appreciated treasure for too long. I'm sure you'll agree that every single customized cake is a culinary masterwork worthy of only the most refined of digestive tracts.

grilled steak and stuffed potato cake with chardonnay

pregnant taco cake

watermelon cake with cryptic youth culture message

a 'Quincy' cake, starring Jack Klugman

stolen bag of loot cake

liberace's protégé cake

lucky leather-scented shoe cake

highly desirable spam cake

bar mitzvah w/prayer shawl cake. 'way to go larry!

cat and mouse cake. no apologizing for dead rodents in this kitchen

hulk cake. the only known cake you have to negotiate with

kleenex cake... it's my birthday and i'll cry if i want to

the mixed-up bucket of chicken stuck inside a cake's body
_____________

Sorry if this came off too much like some kind of lame-ass Jay Leno segment. As usual, I'll try to come up with something better next time.

Flim Flam Film Fan Flan

2008-03-21T00:09:00.000-07:00

I'll try to approach this authoritatively.

The 1967 version of Casino Royale made for a fairly ponderous comedy. Several directors oversaw individual segments and the whole goulash was then strewn together, resulting in major continuity gaps and narrative flaws. None of this was helped by Peter Sellers walking off the project prematurely. I've always though that Sellers came across as a cool dude but apparently, except for Stanley Kubrick, everyone reported that he was a monster to work with.

On the other hand, this Bond spoof is placed right in the middle of one of my favorite decades for film set design. So, visually, it more than makes up for what it lacks in story.

...Oh yeah, the score to Casino Royale was by Herb Alpert which lent the perfect union of kitsch for later generations to gawk at --and yet another reason why this chaotic mess deserves to be enshrined.

Click any image for large view.

my favorite shot, hands-down: slo-mo feathers and ursula andres spinning on a circular bed

some anonymous loser

no 60s comedy is worth it's salt without a hallucination sequence

60s computers were the BEST! I've always puzzled over how the 60s could look more modern than the 70s. is it because the 70's saw us scaling back on our vaunted expectations of the future due to the mounting political corrosion ? what do you say, Joey Polanski?

woody allen IS Jimmy Bond... this was his second film, following "what's new pussycat?"

My Political Bag, Man

2008-02-27T03:42:00.000-08:00

right-on! rah-rah!, go geritopia!

.

How's that?

you make the whole gang quiver with glee, geritopia!
now go and get out the vote!

Mr. President

2008-02-22T00:20:00.000-08:00

So whatever happened to the title of President? Nobody addresses the actual President using the title. Rather, it's "Mr. Bush".

Damned hippies!

Does this situation imply that the title "Mr. President" is no longer spoken for and I can simply steal it to advance my own social standing at cocktail parties? While moving up the political ladder, I will be accompanied by a Marylin Monroe impersonator with a 5 o'clock shadow who will sing " Happy birthday Mr. President". It's all part of the master plan to walk gallantly in reverse across the White House lawn, past security, and assume permanent residence.

Speaking of Presidents, I kind of miss the iconic President Nixon, mostly for his riotous piano playing. I've made the pilgrimage to the Nixon museum in Loma Linda. It's built on a lot connected to the house where the guy grew up. The museum also has Dick & Pat's final resting place in the back yard, which is sort of unsettling as it catches you off guard with a frozen stare and a mouthful of milk duds.

Likewise, one day people will tour the homestead of my youth to fawn over my legacy. All the original rooms will be set up as exhibits behind a velvet rope. And now, dear friends, I present an exclusive Bloggy-Blog preview, featuring painstakingly preserved artifacts inside the actual log cabin of my birth!

Mr. President's Okeeffe and Merritt

Mr. President's Kitchen Clock

Mr. President's Original Doorbell

Mr. President's Ceramic Lion

Mr. President's Commemorative Douglas Aircraft Wall Plate

Mr. President's Central Home Intercom Control Panel

Mr. President's Wood Paneled Intercom Speaker

Mr. President's Original Refrigerator Contents

Mr. President's Retarded "Big Note Songbook" Piano

Mr. President's Brother's Frankenstein Toy That Drops Its Trousers

The Portable Disneyland

2008-02-18T14:34:00.000-08:00

My vote for best ride at Disneyland would have to be Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. That's because it's very economical and effective. Toward the end, you get the sound of an oncoming train and a bright lamp bearing down on you. What else do you need?

There's always that impulse to go to the DL park Anaheim just for that one ride. But it's such a hassle and not a very practical matter. Sometimes you just need your fix and you're on your way. So the solution would be to install complete modular Mr. Toad's rides in various storefront spaces, accessible and as plentiful as the neighborhood 7-Eleven.

So goes my utopian ideal.

Toiling For Mud: The story of an aborted blog

2008-02-17T21:05:00.000-08:00

sad, flaccid advertising.

You'd never want to write too consistently on a personal blog because it just starts to look sad. On the other hand, if you write too infrequently, you risk losing your loyal (paid) readership. The sophisticated thing to do then is to share the writing output with a partner.

Not wishing to signal to the world the enormous chunks of time I routinely devote to staring off into space, I figured that installing a guest writer here would be an excellent decoy. But who would I get? I wanted my guest to be a sensation, perhaps someone with a public profile. I've learned from the wisdom of the entertainment industry that when you can't get A-list, you go for B. [ If you can't get B-list, then you get the dolphin show guys. ] The zero-budget solution was to recruit my favorite TV commercial mascot: the dancing 3D man from the Closet World ad! He could be great asset by blogging about his unique celebrity lifestyle.

NOT the real Closet World dancing man but definitely the same genus.

The snag, unfortunately, is that it appears that I'm one of maybe two people who actually know who the Closet World dancing man is. I came to this conclusion because there's such a glaring lack of information about him on the Web and absolutely no image resources (are my excursions into "fringe" culture really that esoteric, compared to the wealth of UFO sites and internet conspiracy theories?!). So I couldn't very well justify serving as ghost writer for this ridiculous obscure mascot, let alone doing so without accompanying graphics of the man himself.

There was but one internet oasis that committed to print an examination of the Closet World oeuvre --a blog, appropriately entitled "Airsick Moth" features an excellent deconstruction of this most underground of personalities: "Is it Closet World's aim to distract us from the less-than-interesting prospect of shopping for closet-oriented retail merchandise and installation services, by dazzling us with the disturbing jolts and twitches of the white-striped faceless effigy of the human soul, manipulating it into a cruel puppet-show foretelling of our enslavement to an addiction of competitively priced home improvement services, coat racks, and storage bins? " "...his modus operandi remains the same: a joyless thumping of pale, stiff limbs -- movement, but not life."

For those of you who have not witnessed the eeriness of Closet World's advertisement, I'm sorry. You'll just have to sit up and watch more local television at 2am.

If anyone can find me an image of the REAL Closet World figure, I will buy you a bag of those marshmallow peanut things as a reward.

Uh-Oh, the Marharishi Died

2008-02-06T01:35:00.000-08:00

How 'bout an Ice Cold Squishy?

What to say about Mr. Mahesh Yogi?

A few things.

When I was a kid, my mother actually practised Transcendental Meditation for a while. That was a unique detour for someone like her coming from such a conservative religious background. I remember once going along to the meditation center and upon learning that they admonished people to leave an offering, usually some sort of fruit, I became spooked.

________________

Of course, like everybody, I have to mention the Beatles connection. I know that Ringo liked Maharishi "because Maharishi was always laughing". That's reasonable. After all, what else do you need to know about someone? Personally, I don't care if the Marharishi made a pass at Mia Farrow or not. I never understood why that was a big deal. If it motivated John to write "Sexie Sadie" then it was all worth it. Good chords in that one.

________________

I experienced a brief encounter in communal living in the early 90s, while sharing a house with some well-to-do white folks in Pacific Palisades (if you want to call that a commune). There was a woman living with us who was the proverbial Earth Mother-type. She was very sweet, soft-spoken and she made celery soup on a portable gas heater --never, never on the kitchen's electric stove. She was also an ardent practitioner of TM and, while she didn't have a job, she was never short on cash. I admired her for that. 'Never asked any questions.

In a casual conversation about TM, Earth Mother Lady mildly boasted that there are people with such advanced meditation ability they could actually ascend into the air and levitate --AND she had proof of it all on video! Of course, the rest of us begged her to see the video and it took her a day or two to track it down. Finally, we gathered in front of the TV, greatly anticipating the amazing levitation demonstration. What I saw turned out to be a bunch of guys wearing light robes sitting in the lotus position. They then began flapping their legs, while still crossed, and bounced in short bursts --in effect, hopping on their asses across the floor.

I laughed really, really hard. The best reason I can give is that it was funny. And, yet, I remained on very good terms with the earth-mother lady, although I have no idea where she is now.

And now you know the rest of the story.

1st Rule of Nature: The Word "Doodle" Never Impresses the Ladies

2008-02-05T03:56:00.000-08:00

nonetheless..

I'll do a better one next time, now that I know I can do this. Sorry.

Pouring out my guts out for an Ex-Girlfriend

2008-02-04T00:10:00.000-08:00

But what I really want to write about is the legacy of a joke attributed to our sixteenth President, Abraham Lincoln.

Mr. Lincoln once quipped, "A man's legs ought to be long enough to reach the ground".

.

Doodles, More of 'Em #7

2008-02-02T11:14:00.001-08:00

zero comments

Duly Diddle #6

2008-02-02T03:25:00.000-08:00

SPEARS!

Daily Dawdle #5

2008-02-01T21:35:00.000-08:00

Freud PWNED!

Daily Doodle #4

2008-01-31T20:47:00.000-08:00

Yet Another Popular Term to be Sick of

2008-01-26T23:10:00.000-08:00

You must have had your head in a book not to have noticed the popularization of the term "PWNED" on the internet. PWNED, of course, is gamer-speak for owned... as in "you're so owned", or "Dude, McCain got totally owned by Olbermann, snort-snort !".

If anything, countless "Pwned" videos on YouTube prove that it's a national obsession to pour over seeing someone you dislike being put int their place, bitterly wounded, getting comeuppance, etc. It really gets those salivary glands going.

What is wrong with everybody?

The End

Daily Doodle #3

2008-01-07T02:35:00.000-08:00

Here's today's doodle, drawn the way real men do it on a scrap of ruled paper with a ball point pen. It's sort of a self-portrait of my senior citizen years as I slip further into my eccentric lifestyle à la Howard Hughes (wry commentary on my online dating travails). Hence, the long fingernails and vats of urine in the background.

It's entitled: "The Last Day the Jehovah's Witnesses Came Calling ".

...and here's the "Cleaned-up" version, using my patented process:

always click for big

Daily Doodle #2

2008-01-06T01:23:00.000-08:00

I know, I know, I'm cheating because I'm utilizing Photoshop and certain layering effects. But using the trackpad to draw the basic shape is a fairly humbling constraint this side of an Etch-a-Sketch.

This one's called: "Patrons of the Lost Souls Art Show in Various States of Undress".

Daily Doodle #1

2008-01-05T15:36:00.000-08:00

When I started this blog, I had an idea to do a high-minded exercise called "Daily Doodle". Each would be rendered spontaneously and posted the same day. It's the usual self-indulgence you've come to expect here. The point is, while I don't always have something to yap about, I can nonetheless scrawl endlessly. So here's one for today. 'Not exactly a traditional doodle but done in the popular medium of Photoshop using laptop trackpad.

It's called "Nocturnal Superbaby Hunts for Loose Change in Sofa".

click fo'biggah

Navel Gazing at its Best

2008-01-04T15:35:00.000-08:00

It's interesting to press the mind to go as far back into the earliest eensy-weensiest thing that you can remember. I seem to recall seeing my Dad rolling up to the driveway with a towering rack of BBQ ribs attached to the car and, also, some kind TV set made out of stone slabs. Then there's a blurry recollection of St. Paul going forth and converting the Gentiles. Then there was Henry XIII but, of course, everyone remembers Henry XIII.

Which reminds me...

It's humbling to note that before one's birth, there was no personal existence. It's as though we've already known obliteration and/or "death". Yet on a time-continuum, where every event is connected; where here-and-now is immutably extant with past and future, you could say that every single person is imminently alive and dead at the same time --which explains why many women choose to wear a thick foundation. It's a survival trick of the physically-bound human animal to experience the persistence of time, like frames on a strip of film create the illusion of animation. Reality is virtual. Therefore, there is no "us and them"; no doorknob; no Mexican Hairless. However, there are Taxes. Don't mess with Taxes.

Other idle pastimes include: Staring at your own reflection in a mirror until it appears to blur and mutate into some ghastly melting visage being consumed by ants. Also, ruminating about how human ears are essentially so strange an apparatus yet pass to be aesthetically worthy of dangling baubles from AND the fact that a shape as conspicuous as a nose attached to a human face allows anyone to pass for handsome or beautiful is beyond objective analysis.

It's raining today. What did you expect?

Predictions for 2008

2007-12-30T16:58:00.000-08:00

Apes unearth a human doll that talks, causing a heretical scientist and his captive homosapien to flee on horseback.

The Rapture occurs only for those whose names begin with the letter "K" in the phone book.

America becomes independent from foreign oil when it's revealed that gushers happen for everyone that goes "shootin' at some food" in their own backyard.

Romney adopts new campaign slogan: "Whatever, we're all going to die anyway!"

A new generation of lost teenagers adopt the "hobo look" and travel the country with knapsacks, stogies and patched jeans in boxcars.

Death from old age becomes "the new 20".

The Earth spins off axis and finds a new lover in the form of Alan Shepard's golf ball.

Gerber brand "Puree of Squash" displaces caviar in scene from new James Bond thriller.

Political speech writers go on strike, resulting in an unprecedented golden-era of peace.

The annual Rose Parade will be replaced by Macaroni Parade. Floats will be covered in pasta wheels affixed with Elmer's Glue and spray-painted gold. Chef Roy-ar-dee will preside as Grand Marshal.

The cotton gin is reintroduced stoking the country into a new industrial revolution.

The Moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars and peace will guide the planets and Cal Worthington will sell used cars.

A time capsule dating 1938 is excavated from the Chrysler Building only to reveal an embarrassing wind-up dancing minstrel doll.

The polar ice caps will melt revealing a delectable chewy caramel center.

The two major political parties will be so traumatized by the vitriolic language from the opposing side that their convictions will flip as a result of Stockholm Syndrome.

Girls will be boys and boys will be girls, its a mixed up muddled up shook up world except for Lola.

Soda pop will flow from drinking fountains in St. Louis, when the first Oompa-Loompa is elected mayor. People will bathe in the stuff and become very sticky.

All electrical devices suddenly stop working when a 10-year-old child realizes that everyone knows how to use electricity but, paradoxically, no one knows what it really is. Angry mobs with torches hunt down the phrase "suspension of disbelief".

The government adds hot lava as a new food group, declaring it an essential part of a healthy diet.

Numbers are abolished in favor of the more accurate finger-counting system.

Joey Polanski walks down the sidewalk, encounters talking squirrel, followed by ticker tape parade.

[your predictions welcome]

Feral Cat Strut

2007-12-02T16:37:00.000-08:00

The current up-tick in the use of the adjective "Feral" has gone too far, especially when adjoined with the word "Cat". Injecting Feral into social banter has suddenly become all the rage, as if it adds an air of personal identification with the plight of the feral. Suddenly everything is Feral... feral chickens, feral monkeys, feral cars and feral presidents of the United States, etc.

Can I get a witness?

Feral-Correctness casualty, the classic Key Largo.
"Aaah, Feral Cat, eh? Yeah. A real FERAL CAT!"

Wrapped Up Like a Deuce

2007-11-19T01:08:00.000-08:00

"If you cannot convince anyone of anything, quote somebody else and watch the magic happen" --Geritopia

Yes, you got it here and you can quote me.

Censorship By And For The People

2007-10-25T15:18:00.000-07:00

There's a few blogs that I visit habitually. The first, of course, is my own. I'm always anxiously awaiting my next incisive perspective on the world. Golly, what will I think of next? Next stop is a political blog that conveniently assembles the latest video clips of Maher, Colbert, Stewart, etc. Everyone in the comments section is snarling and easily-provoked because it is, after all, politics. Lastly, there's an excellent blog that showcases the goings on in the world of animation.

Reader feedback on blogs obviously is a tricky affair. There's the "flamers", "spammers", "whammers", "bammers", the "thank-you-mammers" etc. There's always going to be a certain parasitic element that abuses the forum which then forces the moderator to eliminate those kinds of comments. I'm fine with that. Lately, though, I've had a few of my own contributions to the aforementioned blogs eliminated simply because I was voicing an opinion that was at variance with the tribe. My comments were NOT brimming ith invectives, spam, links to 911 conspiracies or any tomfoolery like that.

I find it all rather dismaying and surprisingly thin-skinned.

A threat? Me?

2007-10-21T03:57:00.000-07:00

It's not Junk if you Share it

2007-10-08T02:29:00.000-07:00

I tend to be a packrat and that can be a problem. I'm not a compulsive collector of anything specifically but --alright, I confess... my entire living space is lined with thousands of Big Mouth Billy Bass that all play in unison. Just ring the doorbell and see. Meanwhile, being prone to holding on to useless things extends to a pile of random photos I've lifted off the internet for no good reason. These oddities are duly amassed in an electronic junk drawer folder on my desktop. The advantage of computer storage being that at least I don't have to trip over these items in the hallway.

Samples:

Hey Kid's, it's the now defunct Santa's Village and the perpetually frozen "North Pole" that you could get your tongue frozen to, until they unplugged it. A rather sad amusement centerpiece.

A true adventure into the bowels of the Hollywood Wax Museum. They've since removed the Hoff and his cohorts.

Walt Disney takes a sledge hammer to some cute iron lawn fixtures for a wartime scrap drive. Or was he really making one of his usual anarchist statements?

All that's left of doggy "White Fang"

Only on Ebay. The ventriloquist section photos will never let you down. Looks like Carol Channing practicing her unorthodox form of deep meditation.

Partridge-era Susan Dey on top of her game. Again, there's no point to this whatsoever.

Something related to the the world of Irwin Allen's Time Tunnel, perhaps? A formidable role model any way you slice it.

Another Disney shot. Here in Spain with Dali and wives. Why is this so intriguing to me?

Ruby and Oswald rock. This looks like the kind of novelty shot that everyone on the internet has already seen a thousand times over. I only came across it recently. Stupid and effective. Just he way I like it.

Thank You for visiting my virtual, and happily odorless, junk drawer. Would you believe there are many dozens of such photos just like these to be found on the internet? Please sign the guest book on the way out.

Dr. Smith's Final Conquest

2007-10-02T18:16:00.000-07:00

Still sick. I've been reading up on how colds work. What's the mechanism behind the sore throat and the unrelenting rivers of snot? Meanwhile, everyone has their own holistic remedies and tips to offer but the only relief I can find seems to be from my good friend Mr. Nyquil, cherry flavored.

Cold viruses attach themselves to humans and primates only. Other animals get off scott-free. It only takes from 1 to 10 individual viruses to make you sick.

A cold virus is a tiny warlock killing machine swinging a spiked mace, marauding through the chambers of your upper respiratory system. He'll mess with your DNA and he's a randy pest, causing infected cells to explode with droves of replicant viral spawn. All this sex talk is making me feel amorous.

You might ask if these parasites are from outer space. So are they? The curious thing is that there's no forward-evolutionary purpose to all this. It's as though nature has an anti-social side on the cellular level, because apparently we're not supposed to feel all nice an healthy 100% of the time. These things build character, as well as lead to potentially lethal complications.

Maybe this is a microbial Banksy stunt.

Notes From a Resplended Crawl Space

2007-09-26T16:59:00.000-07:00

I'm lying around my apartment congested, wheezing, and coughing. Inspired by a steady intake of Reality TV, I thought that detailing my cold in real-time might make for a thrilling blog experience.

There! --right there, I just sneezed! Ghaaahhhh. It's live coverage as each symptom of the virus unfolds, coming at you thanks to streaming text. Will I survive this? Now I'm stooped and dragging my feet over to the bathroom to fetch another wad of toilet paper for my nose. Oh I just caught my foot on an electrical cable. I've hit the ground. This is one of the worst catastrophes in the world. It's a terrific crash, ladies and gentlemen. It's smoke, and it's flames now. Oh the humanity!!!

Gripping, eh? If you desire more live drippy sinus coverage, you'll need to subscribe to the exclusive Golden Altar Room.

Meanwhile, very little has been going on, which partly explains my absence. Well, there's very little going on, except for this minor issue of subatomic entropy which is gradually darkening significant corners of the universe. This subject is of so under the radar to the inhabitants of this planet, that it only made the back pages of the Tortoise Lover's Field Guide & Gazette. It's enough to make me sick.

Other topics were pulling at my coattails and vying for attention over the last couple weeks, yet never quite making it to print here at Geritopia (a tax-exempt, semi-nudist enterprise). Among them: How the level of narcissism in L.A. is so grossly all-pervasive as to hamper the acting out of my own self-serving/self-promoting impulses. I'm always amazed at the shallowness of this town and I will do anything and everything to prove that I'm better.

Lastly, I was going to talk about dietary ethics and Domino's new "Oreo Dessert Pizza" --a shit pile concoction of sugary cookie crumbs topped with globs of frosting. But then I sampled one and I was transformed. I found peace and wholeness. Don't be afraid. It's OK to step over to the other side; you'll never need to get uptight again. Eat it. EAT IT!!!

Filler ...but decent filler

2007-09-11T15:19:00.000-07:00

Hey Kids, it's the jazzy, abstract "Gumbasia" short by Art Clokey. It's a very trippy vision of the primordial clay world that Gumby's evolved.

Click on the image to see the flick.

Weekly World News: Yet Another Thing That Isn't

2007-08-29T01:51:00.000-07:00

This post arrives a bit behind the curve but I just learned that the Weekly World News' last publication was August 27th. Almost more disturbing than the passing of Merv Griffin, I am stunned and saddened at the demise of this fine publication. The WWN was nothing less than conceptual art that you could buy for pennies at the checkout line.

WWN had it right all along.

I'm usually ambivalent about garden variety tabloids but the World Weekly News was different. It was unabashed dreck, which made it dreck with integrity. I would buy them knowing it was a complete waste of my money but there would always be least one payoff article along the lines of "Chupacabra Honeymoons with Amy Carter in Lincoln Bedroom".

For a time, I contemplated moving to Florida and working for the Weekly World News in any capacity. This is what happens when you let opportunities pass.

It almost goes without saying that Weekly World News' uber Right Wing Ed Anger was my favorite editorialist for many years. He was knee-jerk, ignorant, and negative enough regarding just about any subject to make for a fine role-model. Unfortunately, the guy who wrote the Anger articles was replaced by someone else and maybe that's when the rot began to set in.

I think I need to find the last issue of Weekly World News real quick, if it's still around. This is my quest (bidding on Ebay would be too humiliating) ! If anyone sees one, please purchase it and I will reimburse you with rubies and silks from the far East.

Perhaps, in the final analysis (...at the end of the day, when all is said and done...), the problem was that the world didn't deserved a weekly newspaper about itself. You maniacs!

Gene Scott Overdrive

2007-08-24T17:04:00.000-07:00

Hey Kids, I've got this runaway hit over at my annex YouTube site. Someone has even copied my video and re-posted it. But the ultimate tribute goes to Dr. Scott, of course.

There's thousands of hits on this thing! More people than I would have guessed either recall seeing Dr. Gene Scott's "Festival of Faith", along with his monkeyband antics over the years, or are haphazardly grazing the seamy underbelly of fringe TV for lack of direction in life.

The clip was transferred from a VHS reference tape that was recorded a while back when I was thinking about painting a Gene Scott lunch box (Yes, I said I was going to paint a Gene Scott lunch box). A friend had given me a vintage Gentle Ben lunch box, you see, which I always found amusing and so I figured that the world needed a companion Dr. Gene Scott lunch box. Instead of running from TV culture like a sane person, I did an about-face and ran headlong into it. It was a very good idea, if I do say so, but I never got around to making the damned lunch box, although you never know.

ART'S INSPIRATION: TV so good, you have enshrine it on a lunchbox

It would be too difficult to explain why Gene Scott was the phenomenon that he was to the uninitiated. Just Google his name and save me the trouble, OK ? I'm way too tired and cranky.

I will say that one of my fondest TV memories was seeing Scott's last live broadcast before the FCC pulled the plug and the screen went to snow. He was going gangbusters with the aforementioned wind-up monkey band which he used to mock the Sacramento bureaucrats who were on his ass for tax-evasion. I'm just glad I had the vision to witness the spectacle, along with my friend Dennis, who's mother once said of me "He's an odd duck". Anyway, Dr. Scott later returned to television via a satellite network to get his revenge on the world.

Now Dr. Gene Scott is dead but if you look up in the starry sky you can still see his his giant silver-haired grinning head orbiting the Earth. And now you know the rest of the story.

Merv

2007-08-13T00:58:00.000-07:00

Merv Griffin passed away and did you know that it was the very same day last year that talk show host Mike Douglas died as well? Don't ask me how I know this, I just do.

OK, but the weirdest thing that Merv and Mike had in common, I think, is that they both started each show crooning a song. Then they'd sit down for some intellectual chat with heavyweight guests like Henry Kissinger, Adlai Stevenson, Buckminster Fuller, and Charo. Just think of how alien that custom is to the modern talk show scene. What if Larry King or Letterman began every show by scatting like Mel Torme?

Maybe it would be a good thing. Or perhaps a test pattern would be inspirational, or a book.

Puh'otoshop

2007-08-06T02:38:00.000-07:00

Photoshop. I use it. You use it. It's everywhere and you just can't hide from it. Photoshop knows what you're thinking and will haunt your dreams.

Occasionally, I'll find myself just pushing pixels around in Photoshop with no particular goal in mind. True, it ain't no Etch-a-Sketch or Spirograph but it can still be an engaging tool.

Here are tonights' "results". Don't they look heavy, dark and symbolic? Well they're not, so just forget about it.

If I only had my fantasy computer-to-oil-on-canvas robot painting machine, I'd be pretty stoked dude!

Of Our Elaborate Plans, The End

2007-08-03T02:22:00.001-07:00

So, like I was saying, my parents recently sold the family business which had catered to private pilots for nearly 50 years. It's an ignominious end to a lot of history; a slow fade due to economic strains, plus the need to retire and watch even more television.

In homage, here's a small sampling of photos that only partially conveys the bootstrapping ambiance of the airport scene. Not only that, but it was the last outpost on planet Earth to vend Nehi Soda in bottles. I'm gonna miss the place.

A burgeoning enterprise. --mid 70s???

I wasn't going to post any photos with people in them, because they'd just see this, get mad, and yell at me. This color shot is exceptional, however, because it fits my memory of the early years the best. While I don't know who these folks are, the girl in the short skirt is standing provocatively at the entrance to a sketchy-looking shack masquerading as an aviation business.

That's where it all started!

Aside from being born on a riveting table, I spent my entire youth pulling weeds around the place. Later, more dignified office digs were acquired elsewhere on the airport field.

I trust that someone reading this can decipher the overt body language in the above shot and comment.

Corrugated aluminum is the key building component to any aviation establishment, or FBO (fixed-base-operation).

Standard hangar with standard scrap heap.

The mythical double doors of flying, once painted with question-marks to confuse customers. It was part of a game to make sure that pilots stayed alert. Which door opened to the big money prize, or, alternately, the foaming rabid wolf? No one ever knew for sure. Many died finding out.

The famous workbench where anything imaginable was fashioned out of corrugated aluminum faster than balloon animals. Great for kid's parties or Bar mitzvahs.

Music was enjoyed throughout the day and blasted over loudspeakers to overcome the sound of pilots starting up their planes. Featured here is a favorite LP for many years amongst the crew called "Demanding, Hard-Nosed-Perfectionist". Waltz music.

A look into a maintenance shed, with a disciplined arrangement of critical supplies. Efficiency equals safety.

I'm not sure if this was a mascot or a very small mechanic frozen in terror. Suffice to say, while he had his back to the Christmas spirit, he really loved gazing at piston parts.

The End
_______

(or is it?)

Blog Jam

2007-07-31T15:37:00.000-07:00

I have several topics on the back burner that, so far, haven't gelled to my demanding standards.

These include:

My parents selling the family business. Reflections of Zen and the art of aircraft maintenance.

Walking into giant spider webs on otherwise tranquil summer nights.

My review of Sicko.

Larry King and Marlon Brando kissing on YouTube, not that there's anything wrong with that, or is there?

Standing in line at Trader Joes and being subjected to "Philadelphia Freedom" by Elton John.
_____________________

Any requests?

New Car Smell Update

2007-07-22T16:40:00.000-07:00

Back in March I blogged about how the used car I'd purchased had been sprayed inside with a "new car" smell and how terrifically annoying that was. Since then, thousands of letters have poured in expressing concern for my discomfort, offering a bosom to rest my weary head on. Some months and many bosoms later I can say that most, but not all, of the new car smell has subsided.

I'm hard-pressed to think of a single artificial smell that I cotton to. I just don't groove to colognes, perfumes, scented soaps, smelly detergent or stuff like that. Ewwww.. yuk! Then again, while the smell of Coppertone, crayons, Playdoh and Elmers glue may have nostalgic power, it's not exactly what I'd call enchanting. I've heard people say that they like the smell of gasoline fumes but they're all dead.

"drooper-scented" car

My cursory investigation has revealed that the smell inside a freshly made car comes from the epoxies and adhesives that bond interior panels together. People are indeed drawn to these odors in some sick Pavlovian way but the chemicals have an deleterious effect on the human body. So now that we've all been made sick beyond repair, there's a push to discontinue the use of these compounds. So I guess that cars in the future will be held together tongue and groove style.

Hooray for that.

A lot of Esoteric Hooey for the Developmentally Stunted

2007-07-15T23:07:00.001-07:00

Last night I saw one of several films from the "Mods & Rockers" series assembled by the American Cinematheque in Hollywood. Yes, HOLLYWOOD!!! It was a documentary called "Who is Harry Nilsson and Why is Everybody Talkin' About Him?" --actually, everybody isn't talking about him, which is why they can't find a proper distributor for the film.

unrelated cow etching

After the movie, there's was a live discussion with filmmaker John Scheinfeld who said that "the cracks were beginning to show" in terms of Harry's alcoholic spiral and tendency toward self-destruction on his Son of Schmilsson album. There were a couple of additional remarks generally downgrading the quality of work on that record. I would assert that they are wrong and that Son of Schmilsson is Harry's finest release. Perhaps the alcoholism actually made a positive creative contribution in this case.

Without the cracks there wouldn't be a story in any case.

There I said it.

Still, the only reason that I'm mentioning this at all is because I was fleeced 10 bucks just to park in a lot off Hollywood Blvd.. So naturally I have to blog about it to justify my folly.

Dead Arm Chronicles

2007-07-14T13:15:00.000-07:00

The other morning I woke with my right arm positioned in a Benny Hill salute above my head. Somehow I'd lodged it where the circulation got pinched off and the whole length, from my hand to my shoulder, was paralyzed and cold. No feeling whatsoever. Any sort of grazing vermin could've ambled up and feasted on it, chewing up sinew and veins, and I wouldn't have felt a thing. I had to use my other arm to position the cold appendage down and coax it back to life.

I experienced a mild panic wondering if maybe it had been without circulation to the point of no return. What of gangrene or amputation? Or what if a different extremity had gone numb like, say, my head? Then what?

Well, the old arm did finally come 'round with some rallying slaps and a victrola playing John Philip Sousa marches full blast. I scolded it to never venture so far from home again, as I'd discovered it clutching a knapsack and a mini travel-sized bottle of Jim Beam. I mean, who knows where it had been in during its wild sojourn?

master blaster

Everything seemed OK and I'd pretty much forgotten about the whole episode, until I noticed that my right arm seemed hairier than the left and the opposable thumb was positioned on the reverse-side like a second left hand! It began spontaneously writing ransom notes and threatening letters to somebody named "J. Edgar Hoover".

Should I be concerned?

Signed,

"Lefty" The Icepick Jones

Lookie Hear

2007-07-13T03:02:00.000-07:00

Sweepstakes Bonanza Challenge

2007-06-27T23:10:00.000-07:00

I'm in San Diego for a couple of days. Whoever finds me here and hands me a live fish will win 74 dollars and 83 cents. It's all part of my personal reality TV Show.

Pics, Pans, Puns & The Case of the Missing Underwear

2007-06-25T16:47:00.000-07:00

Pic of the week:

Murry Wilson's Opus

Pan of the week is to avoid seeing the film "Fido", which is having limited release here in town. Fido, made with Canadian taxpayer money, is about domesticated zombies in a 50's-era neighborhood. Sounds interesting enough on paper, yes? However, like most contemporary films portraying life in the 50's, what comes across on the screen amounts to a zealous art director's showcase of retro-kitsch sets, costumes, and cars, while the script is nothing more than an afterthought. It's the stock portrayal of repressed families in neatly manicured neighborhoods living blithely in the atomic age, bla-bla-bla. That kind of smug treatment always drives me totally crazy, perhaps because I'm just such a huge Hugh Beaumont fan.

Beaumont in non-repressed repose

Might as well go rent the 1989 flick: "Parents" with Randy Quaid, which is a superior close-cousin in theme, although it too had more potential than it lived up to.

Pun of the week: Did'ya hear'bout the fire down at the circus? -Yeah, it was in tents! Ha-ha-ha.

Finally, if anyone can find my missing underwear, please let me know.

Thanks.

Yet Another Cartoon About Oil Drills

2007-06-12T04:29:00.000-07:00

Here's a High School animation project that I dredged up. It's not an entirely horrible effort, I suppose. Towards the end of making this I found myself slightly in over my head, running out of time and, consequently, things got more limited as it went along. The quality here is total crap, as it's derived from a VHS recording of a Super-8 projection off a bedroom wall.

If you'd like to discuss the deep social profundity of "The Wandering Man", then by all means do. I don't have a clue what it's all about. I was much smarter when I made it and now I just shuffle down the street and keep to myself.

Andy Devine vs. Slim Pickens

2007-05-31T14:13:00.000-07:00

Cast Your Vote Now

Ebay Archaeology Update

2007-05-25T13:29:00.000-07:00

I noticed that the notorious Ventriloquist Dummy commode painting has resurfaced on Ebay. I couldn't help but wonder if this was the same one as before, or if they are massed-produced and installed in various mansions in Beverly Hills. I forwarded that very question to the seller/artist and this was the reply:

"Over my years of being an artist I've found that a lot of people would rather buy a painting that they can use than to just hang on their wall. You see that at a lot of craft shows artist painting on flower pots, end tables, shelves etc. for buyers who like to decorate their homes with art and not just hang it on their walls.......... This is about the 6th. Vent[riloquist dummy] figure I've painted on a toilet seat, I've sold all the others"

That's a pretty unassuming answer from the source of the most subversive work of art since Marcel Duchamp's "Fountain" in 1917. Duchamp's piece, which shocked critics when it was unveiled in 1917, was selected ahead of Picasso's "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon" and "Guernica" -- chosen second and fourth, respectively -- as the most influential work of art.

By extension, that would make this ventriloquist dummy toilet seat the über-influential work of art in the history of man. Now, if it could only talk.

And now I've redeemed myself for making this whole sordid exercise educational.

Romancing the Throne

2007-05-19T00:47:00.000-07:00

The things I could've bought on Ebay, if I'd only been more drunk. Ain't it a beauty?

[it's yet another token image for a "guy blog" & the lame tawdry bathroom humor outlet]

Loitering Pays

2007-05-08T12:12:00.000-07:00

Recalcitrant bohemian Paul over there at The Goldstate has acquired what looks like a very nicely-preserved Optigan. This has stirred up one of the deadly sins in my soul which is sloth. ...meaning that I want to eschew my responsibilities and greedily sleep off my envy and lust for this much sought-after instrument which is so rare that I'm impelled to gobble it up with gluttonous abandon. If not for my pride, I will nonetheless show my wrath one day. [I would like to pitch to the Vatican that being excessively cute on one's blog should be included as the deadliest sin].

If you want to know more about the Optigan keyboard then go Here. Tom Waits and others have used this kitschy kontraption to good effect. Paul found this at a certain second-hand store which has turned out to be a wellspring of impossible luck and gold dubloons for free.

I Shall Never Be Fit To Run For Congress

2007-05-06T01:30:00.000-07:00

"What If" --aka: Happy Fears pt.1

2007-04-30T13:52:00.000-07:00

What if all the bees that have gone missing from hives all around the United States have simply gone shopping to help boost the American economy?

Free Dirt

2007-04-21T02:27:00.000-07:00

This scene from George Axelrod's "Lord Love a Duck" is required viewing if you want to ascend all 12 vibrational levels of Bloggy-Blog's cosmic enlightenment program. The disciplines here are rigorous. The navel-gazing intense. Consider the cost and proceed with humility and focus. Whoever decodes the symbolism of the clip first wins a Nehru jacket, complete with underarm sweat stains from 60's troubadour Donovan.

I'm not kidding. This is serious. Stop joking around.

When Suddenly...

2007-04-18T12:58:00.000-07:00

Hey gang, get a load of this!

Jumbo's Clown Interactive Rumpus Room

2007-03-29T13:22:00.000-07:00

As you well know, BloggyBlog is nothing if interactive. You just tell me what sort of crazy stunt you want me to perform any time of day and I await your request via our exclusive "1-800" line or in the readers' comments section. As you can see on the live Bloggy-Cam below, I reside in a cramped low-budget video studio. I'm here for your entertainment beck and call, clad only in my Depends briefs and reclined on a circular rotating water bed. I'm all yours, although Larry King sometimes comes 'round to visit unannounced.

It's all part of promoting the betterment of society in the electronic age.

Live Video Feed

I hope my colleagues at work are reading this to see just how plugged into technology I really am!

The New Used Car Smell

2007-03-26T14:47:00.000-07:00

I recently bought a new used car. I'm OK with most everything about it but someone at the dealership sprayed the interior with some sort of new car smell. Or, perhaps, the previous owner was a stripper at Jumbo's Clown Room because it smells like the cheapest, gamiest, perfume in the world.

It makes me wonder how many lunkheads, finding themselves dubious as to the purchase of a used car, were brought over the threshold by the seductively tacky new car smell? I'd personally prefer the moldy sandwich under the seat essence, if given the choice. At least the object can be located and removed --or dangled fetchingly from the rear-view mirror.

Can anyone recommend an antidotes for getting rid of the fake new car smell so that my shallow consumerist world won't be unsettled?

The Gang's All Decapitated

2007-03-19T01:40:00.000-07:00

I won't try too hard to distance myself from the fact that there are two films of the musical genre that I can actually watch, being that I'm just that secure with my masculinity. They are "The Wizard of Oz" and "The Gang's All Here". The latter film, by far the most bizarre, is noteworthy because it has a finale segment sung by various disembodied heads.

The movie is bookended by heads singing over a neutral background. This floating head sings a stirring rendition of "Brazil" in the open of The Gang's All Here.

proto cool: slouchy & stoned benny goodman

better hide, 'cause he's a shark that can't go in reverse

a journey into edward everett horton's nostril

the gang's a colony of bacterium under a microscope

The Gang's all Here not only features songs sung by disembodied heads but also features a child's hand that glides off the wrist and morphs into an electric parade float.

the lovely severed paw

a procession of women from venus proceed to remove the neon hoops from the giant sleeve (above) and rotate 'em around in unison. yes, we've seen it all a million times. it's a technicolor fever dream for the entire family.

What I like about this whole spectacle is that it all happens gloriously for no apparent reason other than to freak you out. This film, directed by Busby Berkeley in the early 40's, delivers a bold style that pushes into the Avant-garde but I don't think most people even know it exists --although they DO subconsciously , because it features the famous number with Carmen Miranda and her damn hat o'fruit.

finally, everything makes sense!

Soul-Sucking Cat at Large

2007-03-14T00:46:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you but, for as long as I can remember, I've enjoyed making a certain ridiculous voice that can only be accomplished by inhaling while talking. It's a kind of sound that can be funny to some but the effect can also drive other people completely mad, which is even more satisfying.

So now I see that MY inhale-voice thing has been stolen for a Dairy Queen commercial and I don't mind saying that I feel extremely violated. Here's my single most defining routine, something I've nurtured and shaped to perfection over the years... it's a voice I was going to use on some future animation project and then I see it being cynically one-offed for the sake of some kind of "flamethrower" sandwich.

I can't believe it. I give up.

The Coolest Cereal Pusher Man

2007-03-12T03:07:00.000-07:00

The following vintage clip from YouTube shows cereal pitchman Sugar Bear saving Granny Goodwitch from "Mad Vitamin Stealer" Victor Vicious. In the years that followed his rise to "Bear of the Hour" and subsequent fall into oblivion and madness, scholars have wracked their brains over just what made this paradoxical character so cool, so charismatic, and yet so destructive to tooth enamel.

While the symbolism in this TV spot might require volumes of data to deconstruct, I'll attempt to make it all very simple without sugar-coating the facts. First, let's be frank: Sugar Bear was a known Quaalude abuser, as evidenced by his tell-tale lazy eyelids from photos of the period. Furthermore, his entire adult life was devoted to getting children hooked on mountains of processed sugar. Make no mistake, he was shrewd and he was cunning. He made us laugh; he made us cry. Yet, we loved him in spite of all that he put us through, even more than Danny Bonaduce.

Born in a simple log cabin in 1962, leaving a nasty placenta stain on the kitchen table, Sugar Bear was a precocious banjo-player who appropriated the old-school cocktail suave of Bing Crosby and upgraded it into a more accessible druggy vernacular. His entire wardrobe consisted solely of a blue turtleneck sweater and no pants, which was very de Rigeur amongst Greenwich Village poets of the day.

Few lives are without contradictions. Likewise, there were controversies and questions as to the bear's loyalties. It all started when Sugar Bear was invited to lecture at a Marxist training camp in North Korea in the summer of 1968, where he was welcomed as a revolutionary hero. He made various trips to other Iron Curtain countries, only to quietly return to his corporate Post Cereal job until President Reagan banned him from returning to the States during the 80's.

Sugar Bear was a protege of Timothy Leary as well as close friend and confidant to Bobby Seale, Eldridge Cleaver, and Barry Goldwater. He was an enigma and a two-dimensional character; a friend and foe; a lover and a fighter; alpha and omega, cheese grater and processed cheese in a can. Still, in the final analysis, he was a devoted and loving husband to his wife Maxine and their three kids: Stoolie, Crapper, and Grunter --no matter how much human carnage he left in his wake.

"it smells in your piss"

Is anyone still reading this? To win your prize, compose a sentence using the word "dungarees" in the comments' section. Thanks for playing.

Big Scoop: Lennon vs. Spiderman

2007-03-05T14:25:00.001-08:00

We all know that John Lennon stole or "nicked" his song ideas from the likes of Cole Porter, Jimmy Osmond and Frank Sinatra. Well, here's yet another Gotcha Exclusive from the folks at Bloggy-Blog! We have Side-by-side evidence that Lennon's hippie protest song John Sinclair was a blatant rip-off of the popular 60s' TV cartoon Spiderman.

Push HERE for smoking gun.

[note: If you play it backwards it goes: "Richard Nixon is my very favorite pal". ...but that's for another post]

Lyndon BBQ Beans Johnson --Eat My Words

2007-03-01T11:09:00.000-08:00

Anyone else out there having trouble with the "My Bad!" expression? It's still making the rounds and, subsequently, upsetting my sleep cycle. I'm wondering if one can actually petition the Gov't to drive a lame expression out of circulation ? The thought gives me hope. After all, the City of New York has just done it with the "N"-word but that's another discussion. That's for mature people. That's not what we do here.

On the other hand, the popular exclamation "Awesome!" has survived much longer than I expected and I've sort of adapted to it. Just when I thought "awesome!" was dead, it returns, enjoying waves of resurgence. "Awesome" got a lucky break. It works amongst dunderheads and the Urban Chic alike (and aren't they really the same anyway?). It's an equal-opportunity Republican or Democrat. "Awesome" is a changeling; a betrayer AND a lover. "Awesome" can stay but must be watched carefully.

So well-done "Awesome"! Hats off to you. However, "my bad" is no "awesome".

Coulrophobia in the news

2007-02-21T13:25:00.000-08:00

From CNN today:

BOGOTA, Colombia (Reuters) -- Two clowns were shot and killed by an unidentified gunman during their performance at a traveling circus in the eastern Colombian town of Cucuta, police said Wednesday.

The gunman burst into the Circo del Sol de Cali on Monday night and shot the clowns in front of an audience of 20 to 50 people, local police chief Jose Humberto Henao told Reuters.

One of the clowns was killed instantly, and the second died the next day in hospital.

"The killings had nothing to do with the show the victims were performing at the time of the incident," Henao said in a telephone interview. "We are investigating the motive."

With an entrance fee of under 50 cents, Circo del Sol de Cali attracts mostly poor Colombians. It pitched its tents in Cucuta, near the border with Venezuela, earlier this month.

"The clowns came out to give their show, and then this guy came out shooting them," one audience member told local television. "It was terrible."

Sixfinger

2007-02-18T21:39:00.000-08:00

Sometimes we human primates look back and wonder how our ancestors managed to survive without the handy gadgetry of modern life. And speaking of my favorite handy gadget: "Sixfinger, Sixfinger, man alive! How did I ever get along with five?"

It looks like a finger but it DOES ALL THIS: 1. Shoots cap bombs. 2. Launches S.O.S signals: "Help, I'm being held hostage by a projectile-launching plastic finger attached to my hand!" 3. Writes like a ballpoint pen that uses your own blood. 4. Shoots "secret bullets", which is far better than bullets having your return address written on them. 5. Shoots "message missiles" --and really, whose finger doesn't do that? 6. Shoots "fragmentation bomb", as opposed to those generic bombs that burst leaving clowns and ferris wheels in their wake.

yeah, i know
____________________

Reviews of Sixfinger:

"I adore sixfinger. I got one up on the gun rack of my truck and 7 more pickled in a jar."
-- Caesar "Chip" De Longpre

"Oh heavens no. We've seen enough devastation from Sixfinger"
Rance Binyard

Moist Towelette

2007-02-13T13:34:00.000-08:00

Before you do anything else, go to the online Moist Towelette Museum.

So, music combo "The Police" are back together. It's alright by me. Why should I care when I've spent all my petty rage whining about the Beatles' "Love" project? Sting still looks like Sting. Copeland looks like Ted Danson on drums. And Summers looks exactly like me. He might consider the Specs'N Nose solution for that eternally youthful look.

What else is in the news? North Korea will be suspending its plan to lob missiles at my forehead, and for that I'm mighty grateful. Add another nation to our payroll so they don't kill us. Now I can walk down the street with confidence and not wear so much antiperspirant on my upper lip.

And finally, I would like to formally announce my plans to marry my car so that I can start a super race of Model T's with my face on the grille.

ant

Nothing Can Move Me Like SpecsN'Nose

2007-02-09T15:32:00.000-08:00

I'm under a lot of social pressure to vary my Specs N'Nose.

Bottom line: I doubt most males would care what sort of Specs N'Nose they have on if not for the awareness of how chicks judge them by nothing other than their caliber of Specs N'Nose. It's as though High School social stigmas never entirely vanish from adult life. Eventually you will be maligned and sneered upon based on how un-hip your Specs N'Nose is. Indeed, the Specs N'Nose I wear mark me for the unwavering nerd that I am.

I actually do have trillions of different Specs N'Noses but I always gravitate back to these (conspicuously in pairs):
-because they are light, inexpensive & extremely comfortable. ...I know, I know, it's crazy.

Nothing Can Move Me Like Shoes

2007-02-06T13:15:00.000-08:00

I'm under a lot of social pressure to vary my shoes.

Bottom line: I doubt most males would care what sort of footwear they have on if not for the awareness of how chicks judge them by nothing other than their caliber of shoe. It's as though High School social stigmas never entirely vanish from adult life. Eventually you will be maligned and sneered upon based on how un-hip your shoes are. Indeed, the shoes I wear mark me for the unwavering nerd that I am.

I actually do have trillions of different shoes but I always gravitate back to these (conspicuously in pairs):
-because they are light, inexpensive & extremely comfortable. ...I know, I know, it's crazy.

*The good news is that if you keep wearing anything long enough, the fashion cycle repeats itself and you will suddenly attain "Mr. Awesome" status every 20 years or so. So you never actually have to change your underwear ever again.

The Password is... Recompense

2007-01-30T13:45:00.000-08:00

The response to my previous well-researched post was rather weak. Therefore, I'm immersing my readership into a Rip Taylor video as punishment. Think of it as TV waterboarding for your crimes.

Walt's Unwashed Glitterati

2007-01-29T02:49:00.000-08:00

This is the first in a series of articles in tribute to the unsung ensemble players featured in celebrated animated cartoons. These lesser-known background characters or "extras" were vastly talented at their craft but have fallen by the wayside in terms of the historical recognition that they deserve.

_______________________

While Disney Studio cartoons never packed the biggest comedic punch when compared to competing studios, I nevertheless appreciate the general look of their vintage, so-called "rubber hose-era", stuff. The first example would be the captain in Steamboat Willie -- a part played with gusto by a hulking tobacco-chewing cat identified only as "Pete" by historians who write about such things.

I cannot say this with authority but I think Pete may have evolved into the notorious "Peg-Leg Pete". This was again another criminally underrated character who never saw his full potential realized. Mr. "Leg" was from Russian extraction and had studied acting with Konstantin Stanislavski before coming to Hollywood in the 20s.

Lastly, "Horace Horsecollar" and "Clarabelle Cow" were recurring bit-players in Disney cartoons during the 30's. Their unbridled antics as a pair of mixed-breed lovers was truly an astounding libertine statement for its time.

All these characters later suffered the usual spiral into debauchery and alcoholism --but you knew that already. Clarabelle Cow was ambassador to Ghana until replaced by Shirley Temple Black under Nixon.

Shopkeeper Leaves, They Come Alive

2007-01-21T15:13:00.000-08:00

Here's a couple of images taken from the antique doll store in Pasadena. These figures were particularly disturbing but Bloggy-Blog's raison d etre, as always, is to deliver such goods.

A Cog in the Celebrity Underwear Machine

2007-01-19T22:59:00.000-08:00

I've culled together a reel of recent animations from work for your passive amusement. Each was made within the usual 2-3 hr. turnaround timeframe. I had to see them collectively myself just so it could sink in that I do this for a living.

Push THIS to see.

(not for the squeamish -you've been warned!)

Mr. Peanut is Chloroforming Me

2007-01-18T15:05:00.000-08:00

They say that the first step on the path to recovery from addiction is admitting your disease.

Folks, I cannot stop eating Planters Dry Roasted Peanuts. [Disclosure: Planters does not pay me to say this.] I bought a jar just the other day with its promise of escape from the stresses and cares of the workaday world -- its vampiric and dapper mascot tap-dancing seductively on the label. I knew I'd lose the battle of wills to a cartoon, as I am wont to do.

Mister Mother Superior:
he called himself "Mr. Peanut" but I only knew him as
" Fred Astair Reaper of my Intestinal lining"

Another allure of addiction entails sensory rituals: twisting the lid and the tactile pleasure of the vacuum seal being released; the aroma; the ecstacy! The threshold is down and now sweet plunder is mine! And so I dive in, spending countless hours tilting back the jar and dumping its flavorful contents down my gullet, like a hyper-fattened Foie Gras duck.

The toll on my health is devastating. I cannot move, save for one finger on the keypad. [Again, neither Planters or its subsidiaries subsidize or endorse this blog.]

amour betrayer

Presidential Moments in a Depressive Coma

2007-01-14T14:56:00.000-08:00

I woke up today and across the room sat Richard Nixon staring at me across the dusty hues of dawn. His countenance shone like lightening as he spoke unto me, "do not fear for I bring you wisdom and sound direction in this confused time". As my teeth chattered a frantic S.O.S. signal, I dragged a plush powder blue blanket over my head, "I cannot come out, for you are Richard Nixon and because of this I not only have fear but also trembling and a challenged bladder".

Unmoved, Nixon sounded a command that rolled like thunder, "You will march to the fridge and prepare for me a bologna sandwich as an offering. It will be 20 by 22 cubits with a dollop of cheese whiz and shall be cut diagonally. If you do not cut it diagonally, a rain of locusts will beat upon your car and mar the finish.

"Right!"

And so I prepared the sandwich, hoping to placate the moody apparition from Yorba Linda before things got ugly. However, when I returned, he was gone. On the chair where he once sat was a pile of peanut shells and a note that read: "You are loved".

Soul Brother

2007-01-10T13:56:00.000-08:00

I like this photo of Noam Chomsky working behind the scenes on Davey and Goliath. Actually, it's not Mr. Chomsky. It's really this cat named Peter Kleinow who just up and died. I admttedly didn't know anything about Kleinow or his career until reading his recent obit on Cartoonbrew. I realize now that he was a pretty happenin' dude --for me, the complete artist.

When your legacy mixes playing guitar with The Flying Burrito Brothers AND writing the *Gumby theme song AND working with Art Clokey AND animating the Pilsbury Doughboy, that's a distinguished career one can be proud of.

*thanks to Charlie Hancock for this fine version made lightning-quick in the wee-early 80s.

Behind the Behind

2007-01-08T14:19:00.000-08:00

Many thousands of requests pour in every day asking me about the working guts behind creating graphics for television. To answer, I've prepared the following flow-cart to guide you through this wondrous creative process. All you have to do is believe in the magic!

By the cold light of an infomercial

2007-01-08T02:48:00.000-08:00

Sorry, I really have nothing to talk about. This is the year of positivity and I'm drawing blank.

Perhaps if someone asked me a really messy personal question, we could get the ball rolling. I could give advice. I know many of you are experiencing a life crisis and could benefit from my wisdom.

Ready, go.

Love and the color yellow

2006-12-26T13:23:00.000-08:00

I got a chimpanzee for Christmas. It's really neat. We rob banks together and it knows karate. You can keep your Nintendo and Commodore 64. I'm sticking with the chimp.

Santa's Pack

2006-12-24T14:30:00.000-08:00

I was going to write someting modern and caustic about Santa Claus and his hairy sack full of guns and cocaine but, really, haven't we had enough trash-talk as a nation? TV is rife with gangsters tripping grannies attempting to cross the street; Republicans and Democrats are eating each other's flesh; everywhere liar's pants are on fire; knuckles and faces are colliding every which way ... and I say enough!

Everything will be positive on Bloggy-Blog from now on. I'm turning a new leaf, as the kid's say.

What's wrong with saying I love puppies in a basket? Furthermore, I'm not too ashamed to embrace the color yellow or skip merrily into lanes of on-coming traffic. I will even think of something positive to say about Oliver Stone, Barry Manilow, The Osmonds and processed cheese. They are all living things to be respected.

And so my smartypants sarcastic friends (especially you east Hollywood Myspace hipsters), I must depart from you. You will see me ascending into the sky and on to a higher calling. We will all be together, by and by.

Mandingo

Bloggy-Blog Dating Page

2006-12-23T13:19:00.000-08:00

Now, all the beautiful people who march arm-in-arm with the philosophies of Bloggy-Blog can meet-up and swing! Just write your profile in the comments' section. Make sure to include your shoe size. Then, simply wait by the phone with cucumbers over your eyes and curlers in your hair. This is your ticket to love!

The Doors of DVD Revisionism

2006-12-16T15:52:00.000-08:00

I return to Doors music infrequently. Now and then, however, it's just the thing, like a welcome cold pizza. A combination of factors converged with the Doors that still convey a satisfying 60s flavor that I must imbibe, say, every eight months or so. The same applies to Peter Sellers. I must mainline a Peter Sellers movie into my veins, no matter how dubious, at least once a year or I will wither.

So last night I watched the expanded 2 DVD set of Oliver Stone's "The Doors". I've seen the film before and was mostly ambivalent, yet appreciative of how challenging it must be to make a film reenacting a celebrated rock band and not slip off a completely maudlin cliff.

Watching "The Doors" again, this time shirtless and with headphones for full effect, I had an epiphany. I had anticipated a drama but It's really a very comedic film played totally deadpan. There are many moments in the film where Oliver Stone so completely massages his own obsessive love convulsion of the mythic aspect of Morrison and the Doors that absurdity quickly overtakes credibility. It's a film that subverts itself while it tries to subvert, whether by accident or not that makes it a comedy in my book. I really don't have to give examples because it's basically all throughout the whole movie.

Someone might argue, how could you make the film worth watching without indulging in Doors-ey stylistic license? I'd say that's fine to do but just don't make it so retarded!

Val Kilmer was pretty good, actually. Almost as good as his portrayal of that OTHER rock icon Nick Rivers in "Top Secret" -a comedy played so deadpan, you'd think it was a drama.

The End

Best Thing Since Monkeys On Rollerskates

2006-12-07T15:49:00.000-08:00

X-ray Diffraction Evidence for a "Cyclotriene" Motif in the Molecular Structure of Trisbicyclo[2.1.1]hexabenzene

2006-12-05T11:36:00.000-08:00

Hey bachelor readers of Bloggy-Blog, get your kicks from this knockout sexy website. Hubba-hubba! Keep watch for the boss looking over your shoulder. You could get canned!

Now THAT'S Entertainment!

2006-12-01T13:25:00.000-08:00

Text Will See Us Through

2006-11-30T12:53:00.001-08:00

OK, so my preceding tour down Hollywood Blvd. has been met with little fanfare. Fine. All but a toot from our distinguished Mr. Polanski. Thank you.

What sort of sick perverted dance must I do to get readership here? What kinda' drive-by freak show can compete with the current cultural bar set by Jerry Springer? C'mon people! Let's shake up this rotting town. I wanna dance on tables and ride motorcycles all through the night!

What would you like to see more of here at Bloggy-Blog? --Blanks space? Longer intervals between posts? The constant droning of crickets? You call the shots.