Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Federico Lombardi, Your Table is Ready
Israel is dropping bombs on the Gaza Strip right now. They're targeting Hamas and Palestinian militants who've been shooting rockets into Israel from Gaza.
This was so inevitable, and not surprising at all. And that's what's fucked up. Of course some Palestinians were going to fuck with Israel, and of course Israel would push back, hard. It's the same game they've been playing for decades. Both are belligerents. Both play the victim. And now the third intifada, or uprising, is likely to begin. It's not going to be the last one, either.
Hey! Intifadas for everybody, on the house!
I'd rather not be a fatalist. I'd like to believe that there could be some sort of tolerance, not friendliness or drum circle love-ins, but tolerance between Israelis and Palestinians. But until the pricks who are firing stray rockets into Israel stop what they're doing (which is not likely), and Israel stops overreacting with its superior military (which is not likely), there will always be bloodshed, paranoia, and finger-pointing.
Part of my family has a trip to Israel planned for March. That's probably not gonna happen now. It's pretty minor, considering how many people have been killed, but still. Why they gotta fuck with my bubbie's last trip to Israel?
And the most well thought out statement concerning this mess? It came from the Vatican. The fucking Vatican! 
Reverend Federico Lombardi, a Vatican spokesman had this to say about the conflict:
"Hamas is a prisoner to a logic of hate, Israel to a logic of faith in force as the best response to hate. One must continue to search for a different way out, even if that may seem impossible."
Amen.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Bubbling Brain Eggs
I am now dedicated to creating a video on par with this one. Some game tightening is in order, but I'm up for it. Jesus Christ and Buddha and Babylon Ron! This is what I want to do with my life!
Friday, December 26, 2008
Carl Winslow's Corner: In My Room
Hey gang!
It's your ol' buddy Carl Winslow here.
Wanna know a secret?
I eat nothing but black lemons.
Moldy leftover fruits contain all the nutrients I need to thrive in the hurt-dome. The hurt-dome is my bunk bed. I share it with two dead orangutans. One is Don, who fell out my closet. The other is Lurie... I shot Lurie. Caught him looking at my photos. He knew better. Now, all he knows is my comb, gently teasing his hair. Forever.
The photos I protect are of sad orangutans and their bunk beds.
Have a look...
Yeah, you like what you see, don't ya? Ape emotions + bunk beds = satisfaction. I can stare at these babies for hours. It's too hot in my skin. I hate everybody, including dead people and candy wrappers! Blessed be the man who lights his house on fire with digital righteousness!
Other shit happened since the last time I shared my thoughts with you, children...
Blew my arm off. Regenerated it.
Hang glided into a Pizza Hut. Threw up on the manager.
Googled my name. Cockroaches poured out of the USB port.
Woke up underwater.
Yep. I'm pretty normal once you get to know me. Which you won't.
Until then, you know where to find me. In my room.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Robust Buffet
Just got back from Miami. It was 82 degrees and sunny the whole week. It's -2 right now in Chicago...
Happy Hanukkah.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Letters From an Afflicted Admirer : Part 2
I introduced a weirdo the other day. Troubled Tony. He messaged my friend Kellie via myspace, and the things he wrote were like malignant drips of sap from the madness tree.
Here's another unedited (except the name) message...
Date: Jan 20, 2008 6:49 PM
Subject: RE: shrak vs. tomatoe
Hey,
It's too bad that I cre ep you out a little. It's too bad that I can't come over right now to fly kites with you instead of writing these retarded messages. I creep out a lot of people including myself. I can easily be so much creepier. I'm not that creepy. I can be pretty charming also.
Sometimes I just don't use much tact.
Because I know your a bit crazy; I thought that maybe you would succumb to my crazy wild desires. I really only wanted to try and be friends. But then I was thinking that if you were single, maybe we could try to be something more. Because I would really like a serious long term sort of or forever type of girlfriend or a very special temporary short term girlfriend.
But I don't want just anyone, I only want someone who is perfect. Like you. I think your perfect because you write the best poetry, your a talented artist, the way you see the world I find so intriguing, and your the most beautiful creature I've ever seen practically I think. With out a doubt actually because you always have the best hair and complexion and make up. Inside and outside I think you are quite special. It feels good to be desired. So I hope your flattered at least. And not disgusted.
I do really like you. I think that it's fine. I'll find someone to fly kites with sometime. Usually, lately 2 to 4 girls a week ask me for my phone number. I usually don't ask them for theirs though. I haven't found any that I am really about but I'm sure eventually I will. A swimsuit model was calling me a lot even. But then she left the country and I don't think she's back yet. So, I am sort of struggling for girls at the moment because I just can't seem to find one that is good for me. But I'm not too worried. I'm just getting so bored. Sorry for sending you such odd requests and messages. And for rambling.
I hope we can still talk sometime in the far future. Maybe someday we can fly a kite together or something. I wont mail you anything though. Because I don't want to be creepy. And I doubt that when ever I feel like communicating with you that I would be sane. I just can't see into the future that far. And I'm usually perceived as the opposite of sane in reality and writing. At least I'm not violent. So what evers good. I hope your well.
With utmost courtesy and respect,
Troubled Tony
..."At least I'm not violent."
Great line, pity boner. If you have to assure somebody that you're not crazy, you're probably crazy.
And why don't you string together a paragraph that doesn't contradict itself in frightening ways while you're at it? That's my rhetorical question to you, Troubled Tony.
....That's all I got this week, because I'll be in Miami till Sunday.
Perhaps Monty has something cooking on his sticky stove to feed y'all while I'm gone.
Smell ya next week, zap flaps!
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Candy Land Panagramic Message Service: Full Service Stops
Wake Up Mr. Mint Or Dear God The Gin Is Gone.
I awoke to the sound of glass breaking. The only reason I was upset was because of the delicate nature of my stomach at the moment. I knew one wrong move and last night's gin harvest, along with my peppermint chicken tacos from TacoHell, would come out. Why the fuck can't I get one non-mint flavored item? I feel like Midas but without any curses. I don't have a childhood. All I remember is this mint hellhole and serving bratty children life stories when their parents get divorced or they need confidence or some shit.
Rolling over proved to be more hazardous than I thought. The bottle I was nursing last night to forget that I'm in this shit hole, forever, also makes an effective arm cutter when you are trying to get out of bed and not puke. Yeah. One big happy Candy Land. There is no justice.
(via Nuglife)
After my morning Mint Beer, Day Old Mint Eggs, and a good cry, I watched the blood trickle down and felt...alive. I tentatively tasted it. Copper with bready undertones. It was incredible. I can't remember the last time I haven't had that sickly sweet mint taint.
I cut more to eat a meal that wasn't something scrounged from lollipop trees or family friendly gummy chicken.
Hours later, laying in a mess of my own blood and Mr. Mint Baby Batter™, I heard a knock at my door. I knew my next meal, or any meal, wouldn't have that foul taint ever again.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Letters From an Afflicted Admirer : Part 1
During my visit to Grand Rapids, Kellie showed me some creepy messages she received on myspace from a suitor who isn't suited for social interaction. Let's call him Troubled Tony, so as not to, uh, embarrass him further.
She received about 6 of them and replied only to the first one. The first one isn't that bad. The rest of them are. He must've thought that he was making progress, and therefore could reveal his inner feelings. His feelings are wrong.
I've met this guy a couple of times, and was startled by the level of casual dementia he exhibited.
Here is the 4th message, selected as an introduction to the madness. It's amazing.
I'm not joking. This is real. And unedited.
Here she is...
Date: Jan 12, 2008 6:03 PM
Subject: shrak vs. tomatoe
Body:
Hey, I think I want you to move to Wisconsin with me when I get back from Belgium if I go. Because your pretty fantastic. I'm going to build a farm there and underground bases on about 30 acres of land that I have. Then we have 5 acres here in Illinois to build on also. I'll get more eventually.
I might apprentice for an innovator in greenhouse technology. I go to lectures on farming. I already know what I'm going to build. Poured concrete and Dome structures with greenroofs and fish ponds. I want to be able to grow year long without the use of the sun. And outside with the sun. My domes will look like burial mounds! I talk to a lot of consultants about engineering, farming, and energy. I read.
You should come hang out with me. But you might not want to because I might be insane. And you don't know me that well.
I might have trouble communicating. But not really.
I just like the pictures you put in your general pane.
Yesterday my dad got me 192 cans of spray paint. He supports my graffiti now. It was $521.00. The most I ever spent on spray paint in one day. I got it from Arnie, he's our friend. A media consultant who owns TV production companies and produced my dads public access cable TV show. He also owns a paint distribution warehouse. He got me a job to animate a TV commercial for Amtrak. I'll get more TV jobs. I'm using the spray paint to make a mural in my little brothers new Dojo. (Martial Arts School)
Houston Alexander The Nebraskan Assasin (MMA UFC Fighter) is also going to paint something because he's a writer. But I'm OK with that. If it's wac I'll go over him.
I should probably move back to Hollywood where I know many good people and could get a good job but I'm going to try this farming thing first because there is a food crisis going on. And I will have time to build 3D models and work on my demo reel. Still. I'll go back to Hollywood soon enough. Now I need to learn more.
I am so bored.
You should come over and watch documentaries with me. Then maybe we could go bike riding or something? Please. Im so bored! I could die.
I'm suffering.
I hope your well!
Much love,
Troubled Tony
...Yeah, nothing wrong here.
My favorite part is when he breaks down and lays down some truth...
"You should come hang out with me. But you might not want to because I might be insane. And you don't know me that well. I might have trouble communicating. But not really."
These letters are gold!
Thank you, Kellie, for giving me permission to put out these hissing dispatches. And for the hospitality. Ben, too.
More to come, pilgrims!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Ukrainian Village Grease House
8 months a year
the window
in my building's hallway
is wide open
Letting stinks
and sounds
escape
It's winter
The window
is now
fixed shut
to retain heat
And I'll be damned
if it doesn't smell like
thick-ass meatloaf
in my bedroom
right now
Friday, December 5, 2008
Guilt Trippin'
Holy shit! I got a burnt by a shame thrower yesterday. Bad.
I was planning on visiting my friend Kellie in Grand Rapids yesterday.
(Lee and Kellie, lookin' all grown up, and slightly deranged)
I canceled via email in the wee morning hours, like a yellow bellied scoundrel. My reasoning was simple: (Arctic cold snap + snow+ icy roads) = difficult travels. I knew it was a pussy excuse, but it seemed rational at the time.
I must've poked a dog in the eye on this one.
When I woke up, I was feeling much better than the night before. Until I opened an email from Kellie. Now, Kellie is neither a Jew nor a mother, but I'll be damned if she didn't secretly train at a Jewish Mother academy. Oy! She pushed the guilt button hard enough to transport me into another dimension. A dimension filled to capacity with chili mac.
Usually, getting me to change my mind is like trying to push a wet rope up a hill. But when a friend says that they're disappointed in me, bought stomach friendly food for me, got hockey tickets (!) for me, stresses how important it is to spend time with the people you care about, and hopelessly sighs via email? Well, this man has a shame limit. And if the shame is valid, I change my tune and rectify my wrong.
So I'm off to visit Kellie today, like I should have done yesterday. I got called out, and now I'm making it right.
And to those who would try to exploit my shame bone, now that the secret is out, you should know something. Guilt trippin' only works on me once a year, per person, and that person has to be a good friend. A person I have farted loudly in front of...see you soon, Kellie!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Weird, Odd, Strange, & Plus
Howdy, pilgrims.
Our site tracker collects data on how people find our site. We've done a few of these in the past. It's amazing that this blog came up first or second when people searched for the terms below. And weird. But I like weird, and if you're reading this, you like weird, too. Ga-gow!
Starting now, I'll do a post on the weirdest search phrases from the previous month. And I will select the first, second, and third best phrases from them all. These are the cream of the crop, people. Enjoy!
Referrals for November
"Arnold Schwarzenegger perm" (It's all the rage in Thailand)
"Andre the Giant was a Jew?" (I wish. But no, he was not. Check my "biography" of him here)
"creepy adult babies"
"fleshlight alien"
"the life of BABE BROTH THE BASEBALL PLAYER" (Babe Broth was underrated)
"hairy douche" (Robin Williams?)
"fleshlight crystal"
"douche for sale" (3rd place)
"clayface nephew" (1st place)
"Kid N Play on
"fdr was a pig killer" (It's true, he ran 'em over with his wheel chair)
"beginner guitar pack boner"
"douche making lips numb" (don't douche with Novocaine, dummkopf)
"Soup carl" (Daddy?)
"Carlos Zambrano gay" (Say that to his face and discover a world of lasers)
"beard syndrome"
"mumia chipmunk" (2nd place) That gives me an idea...
"washing LSD off clothes" (idiot)
"knee skins sale" (stock up, ma)
"can i put lsd in soup" (yes, but you shouldn't)
"cannibal beach" (romantic honeymoon?)
"KMFDM"+"MUMIA"
"fat guy fleshlight" (no!)
"douche pontoon" (all aboard!)
"carl david hyman jr kiddie sex"
"DRAGONBALL Z kamasutra" (Vegeta...eeewwwww)
"put fleshlight inside teddy bear" (Sir, yes, sir!)
"sister and daughter douche sex pictures" (just...no)
And here's a little claymation zombie gore short that I was really impressed with. Good stuff starts around 1:00.
Smeh-hellz ya later, brobrah.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Stranger Danger
I was watching The Strangers yesterday, and was I was all, "Where's Balki and Cousin Larry? This isn't what I ordered. You're not my pretty butterfly. Are you my pretty butterfly? No!"
I made my own version of The Strangers and sent it to director Bryan Bertino, who should spell his name Brian like the rest of us. So far, he hasn't returned my calls. I did a mock up poster and everything. I wonder why he hasn't gotten back to me?
(original poster here)
My version would be way cooler. And funnier. Two Jews and a black TV cop from the early 90's? Box office gold.
But I guess there's no use fixin' what ain't broke. The Strangers is a damn fine movie. I felt vulnerable and tense throughout my viewing. Word of advice: If you plan on watching it alone at 2am in complete silence, have a hatchet nearby. For safety swingin'. You're gonna need something to feel more protected. I wanted to buy a gun after watching it...
And that is why I recommend The Strangers.
Smell ya later.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Learn The Lessons, Master Biter
A couple weeks ago, my friend Rob decided to have his head shaved. At a party. Here's what happened...
Twas good fun. Afterwards, we refined the creepy pick up lines, and laughed the night away.
A doll was made with the leftover hair. I sent it to my grandmother, whom I hate. She sent me a photo in response. It was of herself in bed, snuggled up to the doll. I just can't seem to creep her out. Never been able to. She's unflappable. Except for her skin, that's mighty flappable.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
