What
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.

ASSORTED DUMB SHIT


1. Name Change NOT Optional.




How do you not do a double take when you see a sign advertising the career success of a gentleman named Randy Beavers? His name is Randy Beavers. His name. Is. Randy. Beavers. What kind of joyous explosion of good karma brings us a Randy Beavers? Is a John Parker displaced by such an arrival? What’s better than a guy who is named Randy Beavers who doesn’t change his name? A guy named Randy Beavers who doesn’t change his name and is motivated enough to learn a second language.

2.
Handicapped? Shop Target!



They renovated the Target down the street from me. This is alarmingly exciting news, especially since the Target now features the Starbucks location with officially the laziest employees ever to grace a coffee house. This includes Nimjob’s Narcolepsy & Java of Reno, Nevada. Their biggest new feature is the fact the half of the parking spots are devoted to the disabled. Target has got the elderly and wounded demographic locked the fuck up. Hey look, next time you get Steve King’d by a van, get your shoppin’ shoes on!

3.
The ONLY Gift.



I have no doubt that a ‘Position of the Day’ book deserves a prominent spot on a Great Gifts display at Borders Bookstores but as the ONLY one? Who the shit am I kidding? This is unbelievably superfine.


4. Whoa.



I was at the mall today and saw a mystifying sight, a full-court press of gratuitous advertising for Alvin and the Chipmunks. ON DVD. Not in theaters. On cocksucking DVD. That’s overkill wrapped inside of a slice of too much nestled in a shell of what the fuck in a collectible case of who the fuck am I.

5. Country Music + Graboid Kills = FASHION MAVEN!






OK, so Reba’s knocked country music out of the park (which is akin to knocking a rubber bouncy ball out of the park with the help of a gigantic cannon and zero gravity). She got behind country music and gave it the 250,000 sperm salute. Then, she decided to try her pale and sun-deprived hand at acting. Guess what? Owned it! Tremors proved that she was no one-trick ponytail. Fucking knocked the dramatic crafts out of the goddamn park. You go Reba! She got a sitcom, fucking bashed its head in at the Rectum. Reba = On Fire. What does a twinkly-eyed Southern warbler do for an encore? Duh.

Fucking shoes. It’s shoes.


6. Fuck Exceptional Values!






What kind of business puts a sale on everything except shit that’s exceptional? What in Shiva’s many knuckles brings about such madness? I envision the manager’s meeting going something like this:

“Donald, we need to move this product like nobody’s business.”

“You ain’t kidding, Percival. I suggest we blow the doors off this
strip mall with a kick ass sale!”


“We need to bust a move on the countertop
and plow through this fine jewelry!”

“What do you say, my man? Throw some sale stickers
on the really good shit?”


“Good, YES. Just make sure that none of the stuff that
is an exceptional value gets sold.”

“The exceptional values are what gets asses through the turnstiles.”


“Nothing exceptional gets sold at a higher discount, I’m firm on this.”

“What about the stupendous and fanciful selections?
Can we slap some sale on them?”


“Whew! I was afraid you were off the reservation as a jeweler.”

“My name’s Donald, not fucking idiot bus passenger.”























By the way:

























“I love to blowed on my soup!”


Message Board Thread.