Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Created by a kindred spirit...

Check it out:

http://www.kylebaker.com/www/multi/content2/GhostChimp.htm

Ghost Chimp, M.D., where have you been all my life? I mean, you're up there with Sgt. Gorilla, from DC's old WWII comics, and Detective Chimp, and Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp, and Rex Mantooth, Kung Fu Gorilla, and Super-Gorilla Grodd...and Sky-Ape...and Monsieur Mallah...and the Mod Gorilla Boss...

I need to lie down...

Monday, February 25, 2008

It really does boggle the mind

Here’s another entry to my ever growing list of really, really bad marketing ideas: Wild Eye caffeinated schnapps.
Caffeinated schnapps.
Caffeinated… schnapps.
CAFFEINATED SCHNAPPS!
The mind reels.

Patton Oswalt, one of my favorite comedians, has said that alcohol ads usually tell the saddest short stories you can imagine. The billboard for Wild Eye I caught sight of in Denver is, sadly, proof that he was correct. It was on Colfax Ave., in a good spot that made it visible for nearly a quarter of a mile. “Denver, here’s your wake up call!”, it blared, and can you guess what picture accompanied it? A pretty girl, you say? In cut-offs, on a bar stool, holding the neck of the thick, cylindrical bottle in a death grip, down near her groinitological region? With a knowing, ‘Come on big boy, you know you want it’ look on her face?

How ever did you know?

“You ever have one of those mornings where you roll out of someone else’s bed and know from the volume of vomit on their floor that it’s gonna be a hard day? What with your boss, and the kids, and the wife bitching about how you didn’t come home last night, you know you can’t face the day sober, but you can’t afford to be found sleeping on your desk in a pool of spit again? Brother, we got the sweet nectar you need, and a little something extra. For those times you need to be stumblin’ drunk, yet awake, there’s Wild Eye caffeinated schnapps! It offers the best of both worlds, and lets you be inebriated AND jittery at the same time. What better combination could there be for rush hour traffic than the twitchiness of caffeine overload mixed with liquor’s gift for making your small motor skills truly minimal? Wild Eye caffeinated schnapps will give you the energy to punch out a cop, and the impaired judgment needed to think it’s a good idea! Wild Eye, you can’t make the police chase last for three hours without it!”

Good lord, where’s Carrie Nation when you need her?

Monday, February 18, 2008

I'm sure this would make money.

Are you an old freak? A senior citizen who's into water sports, coprophilia, S+M, B+D, A+P? Do the other old people at church not understand your love of latex? Are they confused by your references the works of de Sade and Sacher-Masoch? Look aghast at your vast number of lovingly collected 'toys' and antique porn?

Then come to KinkyWrinkle.com! Where you're never too old to get your freak on! The place to meet oldsters just like you! The kind who could teach these kids today something about the proper use of a bullwhip and correct orgy etiquette! The kind who says a hard slap is the same as a loving caress! The kind who really want to punch the midget! The kinds who like their sex just the way you do: deviant!

Velma G., 81, of Teluca Lake says: "I met a hot slab of manhood the first time I went on! The moment he saw my burlap teddy, he could barely control himself. He all but dragged me into the coatroom of the bingo hall, took off my panties, unrolled my labia, blew the dust off of my clitoris, and went to town. 'Course, I broke a hip, but it was worth it!"

Vern H., 78, of Hybiscus adds: "All kinds of sweet honeys have flocked to me since they found out I can't get them pregnant, and they call me 'the Sandblaster'. That's because, when I come, only sand comes out! And they love it, yes, they do..."

If you're a MILF, a FILF, an AILF, an UILF, a GMILF, or a GFILF, KinkyWrinkle.com is the place for you! So unlock your 'Secret Drawer', blow the dust off of your rubber Gimp suit and strap-on, get online, and get off! Go for the gusto! Find the weird turn-on you were always too shy to ask your long-dead partner for! C'mon, you're gonna die soon! Get the lead out, you white-haired sack of raging hormones!

Friday, February 15, 2008

Never a dull moment...

Life in a VA hospital can be boring, but there are moments that more than make up for it. We’re housed pretty close together, and there come occasions that a normally laid-back individual suddenly loses his cool over something. Might be a neighbor slamming his drawers too loudly, might be someone making noise early in the morning, or hogging the TV, or just the result of whatever oddness landed that person in the VA in the first place. It’s these outbursts that give this place its spice.

I’m employed in a therapy job in the recreation center of the VA I’m currently living in. It’s a cool job, with decent co-workers and patrons. Mostly, it involves assigning people to computers and helping them find whatever they need online, with a lot of web-surfing in between. Not a place where a lot of drama occurs, usually.

But yesterday was a little different, apparently. I was the only person working at the time, and had to use the bathroom. I closed the door, and put up the ‘Back in 15 minutes’ sign, but I neglected at lock the door. And while I was…occupied, someone’s craziness came out.

Reports are inconclusive, but someone, for some reason, apparently locked themselves into the computer room and began gallivanting about shirtless. The mystery person might have been sans shirt, but did possess guts to spare, as the recreation area had a number of people in it and they couldn’t have known when I’d return. The internet here is closely controlled by a VA security program that is quite good at keeping pornography inaccessible, and everyone who frequents the computer room knows this, so we’re all a little confused as to why the doffing of clothing was necessary. No odd stains were found, nothing seems to have been stolen, and the person got away clean.

Maybe it was just one of those times when a person needs to be alone, shirtless, in a computer room. I doubt we’ll ever know.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

I should stop eating oysters before bedtime

You know what I hate?

When you get hungry late at night, so you drive over to McDonalds, but when you walk in, you realize it's not a McDonalds, it's a crackhouse, so you figure 'What the hell, I'll buy some crack', but the dude selling it wants to haggle over the price, which takes, like, twenty minutes to set, and then he insists that he wants to be paid in Dutch Guilders or some damn thing, but then the cops raid the place, and you manage to make it out the back door and down the waterslide; then, as you're running down the street from the ruckus, you notice you forgot your pants, and while you're looking around with something to cover yourself with, so you won't shock the ladies when you get to your mother's tea party, Henry Kissinger and Mickey Mouse jump out of the bushes, and Kissinger's wearing a Bozo costume, and Mickey has a double-barreled over-and-under shotgun, and shoots you right in the goddamn face with a couple loads of double-aught buckshot.

That's what I hate.

Wednesday, February 06, 2008

I like Mashed Potatoes

It's like vanilla ice cream.

But made out of potatoes.

And with gravy.

Nothing wrong with that.

Monday, February 04, 2008

Brothers know the coolest tricks

I'd been visiting my brothers, Mark and Jeff, in Atlanta. As always I'd had a great time, probably more fun than the bro's did, given that I was 11 or 12, and they were 10 or 15 years older. It was kinda like hanging out with cool uncles. They didn't mind me staying up late watching TV, fed me a lot of junk food and took me to movies, did all of the cool stuff the parents wouldn't allow.

Our time, as with all good things, came to an end, and the three of us were driving down to the airport to catch my flight home. We were in Mark's boat of an Olds, which was appropriate, as it was pouring rain, the thick stuff that cuts visibility down quite a bit. The car dipped down under a bridge that had standing water, and, all of the sudden, the feel of the ride... changed.

It was like the car was floating, a sensation I enjoyed immensely, and the front of the car began wandering off to the right. Now, Mark claims that the car made several revolutions, but I only recall one. What we agree on is that the car did spin some number of times, and at a moment that the hood happened to be pointing in the correct direction, the tires got traction and we sped on our merry way.

Again, I was 11 or 12 years old, so I just assumed that what had just occurred was some kind of cool rain-driving trick that Mark broke out every once in a while. Y'know, something he was doing to send me off with some last minute fun. I suppose that when Mark looked back at me and said, 'Let's not mention this to Mom', I should have gotten an inkling that something unplanned had occurred, but I thought it was one of those brother things, like getting your first hit of weed, that was between us and didn't need to come to the parents attention.

It was about five years before I figured out how close to death we'd all come. I learned the term 'hydroplaning' and found out that a good number of people die when things like that happen. A great big 'Hmmmmmmm', indeed. I mentioned the incident to Mark, and he said he had been pretty scared through the whole thing. I'm actually glad I didn't know how scared I should have been, 'cause it seemed like an amusement park ride to me. Good times.

I did end up telling my mother about the hydroplaning when I was in my twenties. And, predictably, she threw what can best be described as a 'tizzy'. Given that it had been more than a decade, and my mother had spoken to all three of us multiple times in the intervening years, I didn't think freaking out was warranted, but, hey, she's a mom. It's what they do.

Saturday, February 02, 2008

You should learn something new every day!

So, military school was not a lot of fun, but I did learn a couple of things there. For instance, if you get into a fight with an upperclassman, all you really have to do to win is not get your ass kicked. If the upperclassman doesn't beat you like a red-headed stepchild, he automatically looks like a pussy. There are times that living in a place with the general mentality of a pack of monkeys can be turned to your advantage.

During the Annual Federal Inspection that took place at the end of my last year their, I learned a new word.

I, and the guys in my section, had been waiting for most of the day for the inspectors to get to us, sitting around in full-dress uniform trying not to get wrinkled. We were one of the last sections inspected, but we finally got called to stand at attention outside the doors of our rooms, and the inspectors, who must have been pretty bored themselves, were making pretty quick work of us.

The Colonel who was leading the inspectors got to my room, and my roommate and I followed him in and stood at attention by our lockers. The Colonel glanced around our room, as exactly like the hundred other rooms at the school as we could make it, in a cursory fashion, looked briefly in our lockers, and was set to roll out when something caught his eye. His brow furrowed a little as he looked closer at the gap between my locker and a wall.

"Is that your nickel there?” the Colonel asked me.

"No, sir!" I continued without thinking, "You can have it if you want it!"

The Colonel looked at me closer, his eyes showing surprise. Behind him, I could see Colonel Horton, the head of the school, close his eyes and sigh silently.

"Son," The inspecting Colonel said, not unkindly, "Try not to be facetious, all right?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Do you know what 'don't be facetious' means?"

"No, sir!"

"It means don't be a wiseass."

"Yes, sir! I'll remember, sir!"

"Carry on." And the Colonel led everyone back out of the room.

See what I mean? Everyday, new things come up.