follows is a scattershot bit of random thoughts, links, and images that
showcase the lunacy that exists in the entertainment world and beyond.
Folks who remember my old missives from the old Steady Leak articles
should find this kind of stuff familiar. Folks seemed to get a kick out
of the first installment, and each Wednesday should fall victim to
another installment. Don’t expect anything deep here but something may
tickle your fancy.
Hope you dig:
The List of Dumb: 11/26/07 (Photo Edition)
How does a restaurant ever get to the stage where they approve their menu with a description that reads "Homemade balls"? Whatever stage that is, it’s awesome. Next time I go there I’ll get a snap of their Linguine with Cockmeat.
- "Nah, I’d Rather Poke Him."
"Scotty Nguyen: The Rock Star of Poker Keeps Rolling". I’ll give you this; in that image he looks like Eddie Van AsianHalen but the tank top and arbitrary chains do nothing to sell me on this cat as a rock star. Plus, if this is Poker’s equivalent of a cool cat, I no longer need an argument as to why these "celebrities" are jumping junk. Scotty Nguyen looks like he’s taking the "All In" a little seriousy.
- What Hath Our Great Taste Wrought?
A lot of us formed the front lines of good taste when we championed the Evil Dead sequels in the 80’s and early 90’s and bought the merchandise and multiple DVD releases in order to pay our respects to a franchise and a filmmaker and a leading man who truly deserved it. That said, I cringe at anything related to the franchise now because not only is the material sullied by amazing bits of horrible merchandizing, the further actual development of the story is heinous. I just discovered what was worse than Marvel Zombies…
I’m not upset that Matthew and Gunnar Nelson have a MySpace Page. It warms me but I feel that their amazing and religiously affirming MySpace customization leaves me feeling hollow and extremely brown-haired. Where’s the button that appears on MySpace asking me if I want them to bleed each other out while hungry jackals (or Jackyl) prepare for the blonde fiesta?
- With Hair, 96 LBS. Without, .05 LBS.
Making fun of Celene Dion is like punching a 13 year-old kid in a Led Zeppelin IV t-shirt who bought it because it seemed like a good idea at Hot Topic at the time. Or like kicking sand into the face of a guy who laughs at the ‘Fandango’ jokes before the movie, which is good because I’m tired of lugging bags of sand to movie theaters. Attacking the already attacked by God is just not fun. The damage is done. That said, seeing this standee at my Barnes & Noble makes me wonder if perhaps the floodgates are open to once again pulverize this wicker woman with ire. Forget her sausage crumpling ballads, her Canadian heritage, or the fact she swatted JFK Jr. out of the sky with a scaly appendage. The hair is astounding! I think Revlon would shitcan this marketing approach, saying "too much, too soon". She’s taking a chance alright. She’s taking a chance with whomever I hire to be My Bodyguard.
- Another Reason to Hate 9/11.
I took this a while ago, but the parallels betwen this show and the fateful terrorist attacks are too scary not to pay attention to. Plus, Grey’s Anatomy has a publicist named Lincoln whose maiden name was Kennedy. She also has a puppy named Pubic’s Jesus, but I haven’t been able to figure the connection.
- Wet is Great!
We’re finally getting rain here in Atlanta and it’s about damn time. That said, I think that umbrellas are one of the dumbest things in the world. Unless you have a masterful and fragile hairstyle, your scalp is laced with planted parasites who are born to water, or if you’re one of those few and rare Cardboard Box Men, umbrellas are dumb. It’s fucking water. Unless it’s a torrential downpour, it’s going to dry in a few seconds and all the rain MIGHT do is cleanse you in tiny little sky efforts. Does the rain make you cold? Oh, you poor little merkin! I saw a bald man walking towards a shop yesterday in the drizzle holding an umbrella. It took all the control I had to not say, "good on you for keeping your bald dry". It’s water. Cleansing, healing, life-giving sky sauce. Take it and enjoy it.
- When Meat met Meat.
P.F. Chang’s (the P.F. stands for Pleasure Farm) offers three interesting food choices on their menu as show above. Chicken. Meat. Seafood. Now, I’m not a sociologist but I thought the stuff keeping the bones of chickens and many aquatic beings warm… was MEAT. I think meat is a blanket word, not unlike DIGITAL or NATURAL or GROINWEAKNESS. I want all of the meat at a restaurant to be considered meat. Not just the stuff that’s meat that defies classification. Makes me wonder. Makes me wonder if Asia is one big piece of shit because P.F. Chang’s is obviously 100% a smaller, graciously appointed analogy for Asia in general. EPCOT ain’t got shit on this joint. Fuck, Asia ain’t got shit on this joint. P.F. Chang’s pretty much makes Asia redundant.
I don’t know about you guys but I’m sure glad we don’t need Asia anymore.
By the way:
"Daddy watched my hearing!"